If You Could See Me As I Am
by Firestar'sniece
Summary: When Steve leaves Bucky with Clint, Clint takes Bucky on a mission. On that mission, Bucky gets captured and sold to Hydra. Rumlow is summoned to pick him up. But when things go wrong and the transport is attacked, Bucky may have no choice but to team up with Rumlow in order to survive. Meanwhile, Steve and the gang are searching for Bucky and Clint is in major trouble with Steve.
1. Chapter 1: Mistake

**I don't own Captain America.**

Chapter One: Mistake

(Present)

If there was anything Bucky Barnes hated, it was people having doubts about his capabilities. But if there was anything Bucky Barnes hated more, it was people assuming that he had capabilities that he didn't.

Currently, Bucky was trapped in a small room behind a wooden desk, gunfire going over his head. He was in a black suit and tie, his pistol in his hand despite his ammo being used up. His metal arm was hidden behind gloves and his hair pulled back. One bluetooth was in his left ear, about ready to come off.

Panting, he waited for the gunfire to cease. "What's your position?!" Clint shouted into his ear via the earpiece.

Growling, Bucky covered his other ear, trying to concentrate over the gunfire on Clint's voice. "You should have given me more ammunition!" he shouted back.

"It shouldn't have been necessary!" was the retort.

"Dang it, Clint! I'm not a spy!"

Deciding he'd rather make a break for it than be cornered like an animal waiting to be slaughtered, Bucky charged out the room.

(A Few Hours Earlier)

"Do you have your medications laid out?"

"Yes."

"Do you have you timer set so that you can take them?"

"Yes!"

"Do you have my emergency number and the other emergency contacts just in case?"

Rolling his eyes and going red faced in embarrassment, Bucky folded his arm in defiance. "Yes!" he growled back.

Steve Rogers, Bucky's best friend but unfortunately also his guardian and caretaker held up his hand appeasingly. He was in a black suit and red tie, getting ready to go on a date between "friends" with Ms. Romanoff. That was the plan anyways. Truth be told Bucky suspected that Natasha had feelings for Steve to, she just didn't want to admit it. Thus it was being called an "outing between friends".

Steve smiled lightly. "Just making sure, Buck."

"I'm not a little kid," Bucky groaned, looking at the carpet as he kicked at it. He was dressed in jeans and a long sleeve hoodie, t-shirt underneath that. His toes picked at the tufts of fluff the carpet produced as he refused to look Steve in the eyes, hands briefly ruffling through his long hair which he hadn't pulled back.

Instant compassion was on Steve's face. Because Bucky was emotionally unstable due to his trauma as the Winter Soldier, Bucky was required by the courts to have a legal guardian until such time as it was proven that he'd recovered 100% from the trauma, brainwashing, and torture (and everyone knew that he was never going to recover that far). It was the only way the courts would release him to the general public; it was either that or living in a mental institution for the rest of his life.

Bucky knew that Steve knew how hard it was on him, so he tried not to be too grouchy. It wasn't his fault that he was in this position, after all. But still, he was an adult and he really didn't want a legal guardian to care for him, even if it was his best friend. It was so unfair!

'But at least it's Steve and not some random person assigned to you who doesn't even know you,' his mind told him. He cringed slightly at the thought, causing Steve to step forward in concern as he continued to kick the ground. That had almost happened. Steve had had to appeal to the courts to let him be guardian. It was better for him, Steve had said. And everyone knew it was right. Bucky was most comfortable with Steve and was more likely to listen to him than anyone else.

"Hey," Steve lifted his chin up, forcing him to look at him. "It's just for a few hours. I'm not abandoning you."

"I know," Bucky sighed.

But Steve still seemed concerned at his expression. "You sure you want me to do this? I can always cancel. Natasha would understand."

At this, Bucky looked away, feeling guilty. "No, you go enjoy yourself."

"You know I would do anything for you, Buck. All you have to do is say." Which was also true, and they both knew it. Steve's highest priority was always Bucky.

"No, I'll be fine."

At that point, there was a knock on the door, and Steve crossed the moderate sized living room in the house Steve owned, complete with coffee table and all, and answered the door.

Bucky growled, listening to the conversations that ensued, irritable again. In walked Clint, dressed casually in jeans and t-shirt, a cheerful look on his face.

Steve turned to him again. "Bucky, you remember Clint, right? He's the one I told you would be staying here for you."

Bucky swiftly nodded and glared at Clint, not feeling too amiable towards him right now. Clint didn't even flinch, to his credit. He still had that friendly smile on his face. "My **_babysitter_** ," Bucky growled.

At this, Clint looked uncomfortable, fidgeting slightly. "I prefer to think of it as two friends hanging out together while Steve and Natasha have fun."

Of course he did. "Still a babysitter," Bucky pointed out and a nervous silence was in the room. It was no secret that Bucky, by court order, was supposed to be monitered at all times and have someone with him at all times. In essence, if Steve left, he was supposed to have someone qualified and who could handle Bucky and look after him. Babysitting was the term Bucky used, but that was exactly what it was. And everyone knew Bucky didn't like it. It was just a reminder that Bucky still wasn't 100% free because the judges and American public didn't trust that he was emotionally stable yet. And they were right. Bucky didn't like being reminded of that fact, though.

Steve turned to Clint. "You have my phone number?"

"Yes," Clint rolled his eyes as Bucky said under his breath, "See? Babysitter."

"You have the other emergency contacts?"

"Yes."

"You know when Bucky takes his medicine?"

"Yes!"

"Sam's number is added in case he has a panic attack-"

"I have Sam's number, Steve! Go already!" One thing was for sure, Cap was thorough when it came to his best friend.

"One more thing: Bucky's bedtime is at 9:00. It's not an option."

Bucky froze and looked up, his cheeks going red in embarrassment. Add insult to injury, why don't you? It was a good thing Steve's back was to him so that he couldn't see Bucky's embarrassment, but Clint still noticed, causing him to blush further.

Clint rose an eyebrow at this as Steve straightened his tie, getting ready to go. "Bucky gets really cranky if he stays up late," Steve shrugged as he explained. Now Bucky wanted to hide and never show his face again.

His eyes were wide as Steve came over and hugged him one last time. "Take care," Steve whispered into his ear and only now could Bucky feel his anxiety.

"Don't be too long," Bucky whispered back, burying his face into Steve's chest for comfort, hoping Clint didn't hear their conversation.

And like that, Steve let go, walking backwards to the door. He waved one final time to Bucky before opening the door and leaving Bucky with Clint as he left.

An awkward silence ensued then berween the two assassins. "So," Clint broke the tension. "Do you want to play a game or something? I have cards to play Go Fish."

Bucky glared at Clint before stalking down the long hallway to his dark brown wood door on the far right and slamming it shut behind him.

(Some Time Later)

How long Bucky stayed in his room sulking, he didn't know. But, eventually, Clint must have thought that Bucky had had enough time to mope, so he knocked on the door.

"Go away!" Bucky shouted, not in a mood for his company. Sure, he knew Clint already, sure they had worked together in the "Civil War" against Tony Stark, but that didn't mean he liked Clint. He was never comfortable around the man like Steve was, even though Clint seemed perfectly at ease around him. Then again, he wasn't really comfortable around anyone apart from Steve, though he tolerated Sam because Sam counseled him. He trusted Sam to some extent, even if he was uncomfortable with him. That was more than he could say for the others. But he did not want a **_babysitter_**.

He'd never had to be babysat before. Steve had never left him until now. He'd always accompanied Steve to work and Steve had relegated himself to doing office work instead of going on missions so that he could stay behind and care for Bucky. It was a big sacrifice for him, Bucky knew that. He'd almost felt guilty for it, but Steve wouldn't let him feel guilty for it.

Bucky lay on his bed on top of his plush quilt, gift from Steve. His moderate sized bedroom was decorated with Howling Commando memorabilia in an effort to help him remember who he was better. Bucky knew his therapist had recommended it, but for once Bucky didn't seem to mind.

A poster of Steve when he was a "show girl" advertizing one of his many evening entertainment adventures on stage was featured prominently on the wall he was facing. To Steve's embarrassment, he had requested that poster. None the less, Steve had aquiesced and it was gift wrapped and on his bed the next day. Steve would do anything for Bucky, though he was still confused as to how he could have gotten it here so fast. Steve had mentioned something about overnight mail.

A table with an alarm clock was by the bed on the opposite side and on the wall facing the foot of the bed was a round, wooden writing desk, a whole bunch of therapy papers that Bucky didn't want Clint to see scattered around.

A knock sounded on the door again. Bucky promptly ignored it. "Bucky, why don't you come out? We can watch a movie." Growling, Bucky tossed the pillow over his head even though he knew it would do no good. "Come on, dinner is going to be soon. You're not allowed to skip. Super soldiers need lots of food."

"Go away, Clint!" Bucky ground out again. He closed his eyes and held his breath, trying not to think about the fact that he was trapped with a stranger, even if said stranger was a friend of Steve's. He didn't know him that well and he still wasn't sure if he could trust him.

"No," was the soft voice on the other side, and Bucky heard the door opening. Remembering his therapy papers on the desk, Bucky threw his pillow at Clint in an attempt to keep him out. He felt it was a violation of his personal space.

But Clint didn't seem fazed even though Bucky continued to glare at him. Pulling his knees to his chest and laying in fetal position, Bucky continued to level the most menacing look that he could at Clint. Instead, Clint came inside and sat right by him on the bed.

"I know something is on your mind," Clint began and Bucky squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to deal with having a stranger in his room. It was just like Hydra, no privacy.

"Go away!" Bucky practically begged as he felt tears in his eyes and a flashback coming on.

"Please give me a chance!" Clint begged. "I just want to be friends! Don't you want another friend?"

"No!" Bucky put his arms over his head, trying to drive the flashback away. ' _You_ _should give us a chance_ ,' a voice, he thinks Zola was saying. ' _Maybe you'll like Hydra._ _Maybe you'll like the pain._ _You'll certainly get used to it._ '

A scream was heard in the memory, and at that moment Bucky realized he was screaming in reality as well. Arms were holding him tight in an effort to comfort him, and Clint was saying something about flashbacks and calling Sam.

"No!" Bucky screamed, pulling out of Clint's arms who had held him against his chest as he screamed. He was slightly wide eyed, having come out of a minor flashback. Thankfully it was minor as most weren't. "I'm fine!" When Clint looked at him questioningly, Bucky reassured him, "I'm fine! Really, I am!"

After looking at him for a little bit longer and determining that there was nothing more he could do, Clint sighed and nodded. "Okay," he replied, still not sure, Bucky could tell. But he was going to let it go for now. "But I still want you to come out for dinner."

Sighing, and realizing he couldn't say no, Bucky nodded. He followed Clint out to the living room and then to the dining room, the food having been prepared by Steve before he left.

They sat down on the far ends of the table, opposite each other. Eyeing Clint as he started to eat after praying, Bucky did the same, testing it slightly first and waiting to make sure that Clint hadn't poisoned it. Just because Steve trusted him didn't mean Bucky was going to make the same mistake, even if he did see Clint when the rest of the Avengers got off missions. It was only brief contact, anyways. "Hard to believe that I once left the Avengers," he'd heard Clint say one time.

Clint chuckled. "Steve's a good cook," he tried to start a conversation. Bucky only glared at him as he slowly ate. He chewed on the drumstick more, an eye on Clint the whole time. Clint raised an eyebrow at this. "What, you think I would poison you or try to hurt you while Cap's gone?"

'Yes, yes I do,' Bucky thought.

"You do realize that Steve would kill me if anything happened to you on my watch?"

'Doesn't mean you won't try to kill me. Or your trying to get information out of me and Steve to use against us.'

Clint sighed. "Is dinner going to be completely silent with you glaring at me the whole time?"

'Absolutely.'

They continued dinner for some time like this, Clint talking and trying to get Bucky used to his presence, Bucky watching him carefully and untrusting. Despite this, Clint kept up the one sided conversation. He began telling Bucky about missions that weren't classified, and Bucky listened reluctantly and warily. By the time dinner was done, they'd made no progress in forming a friendship and Bucky was as wary as ever.

"You do realize," Clint pointed out as he got up and began taking the dishes to the sink. "That things will be really awkward if you continue to be silent all the time? That's not a good way to have a conversation with people."

"Maybe I don't want a conversation," Bucky growled and Clint turned to him in surprise that he'd talked, towel in hand as he cleaned the dishes.

"There's progress," Clint pointed the towel at him. "Your stating your likes and dislikes. Don't ever let anyone tell you not to."

Bucky tilted his head. Hydra had never let him have an opinion. No one but Steve and Sam, it seemed, had ever let him have an opinion. "You don't... mind?" Bucky ventured carefully for fear that he had gone too far.

Clint shook his head. "Conversations are vital to functioning. Knowing basic things about yourself are vital to functioning." The man turned back to the dishes as Bucky considered this. Clint didn't seem to mind his opinion. Maybe it was because he was trying to get information out of him to harm him. But then, why did Steve seem to trust him?

"Can I ask questions?" Bucky dared. After all, if Clint was trying to gather information on him, he may as well gather infirmation on Clint. Clint nodded like it wasn't a problem. But what should he ask? What kind of information would he need to harm Clint should Clint try to harm him?

Carefully, Bucky selected a question that showed some of his concerns and yet he was sure wouldn't give away his intentions. Though you could never be sure. "How can I be sure that you're not trying to harm Steve and I?"

Clint chuckled some and Bucky stepped back some in fear. "Kid, if I wanted to harm you, I would have harned you and Steve already. I've had plenty of opportunities to harm you and Steve if I wanted to."

Feeling cornered, Bucky narrowed his eyes as he backed up slightly. "I can take you on," he warned the man but Clint shook his head.

"Look, what I'm saying is that I don't want to harm you. Some people are just nice, all right? Like Cap is to you. Not everyone is Hydra. Not everyone is going to brainwash you or use you. Some of us just want to be friends, but your not ready to let more people in your life, or your heart. And considering what you've been through, that's understandable. Some people need to take more time than others."

Nice, it was a concept that the Winter Soldier had trouble understanding. But he considered it. But one thing didn't make sense. "Why do you want to be my friend?" Bucky asked. "I've killed people."

"Haven't we all?" Clint answered darkly. Then his expression softened. "Everyone needs friends. That's why."

Silence reigned between them once more and Clint got back to the dishes. Finally, Bucky got the courage to ask as he watched Clint scrub a pot, "I still don't understand."

Clint stopped and looked at Bucky carefully. He tilted his head and considerd. "Then let me ask you a question," he finally replied. Instantly, Bucky was on guard and Clint held up a hand with brush scrubber in it to appease him. Putting it down, he asked, "Why do you trust Captain America when you don't trust anyone else?" A shocked expression covered Bucky's face and he looked away. Clint observed him for a moment. "It's because he's familiar, isn't he? Despite everything you went through, he's the one familiar and friendly face that you recognize after getting your memory back. You don't really know where else to turn. You know from experience that you can trust him."

Bucky said nothing, but he knew Clint was right. "Did you know that some people don't have that?" Clint's voice was heard. "You're very lucky."

"I know," Bucky whispered.

"But don't you see? No one else is going to be familiar to you. You need to expand your horizons and friendships. Why not start with the friends Steve has? We've already proven ourselves to Steve. Trust me, he won't let you near anyone who he knows will harm you. And he's been trying to let you near us, hasn't he?"

"And what if he shouldn't trust you?"

Clint shrugged, turning back to the dishes. "You'll never know unless you try."

"Is it even worth it to try?" Bucky murmured to himself, but he knew that Clint heard.

"Like I said," was the reply. "Nice. Some people just want to help. Not everyone is out to get you or hurt you."

Bucky scoffed and walked away, leaving Clint to do the dishes.

Upon returning to his room, Bucky curled up on the bed again. He missed Steve. He wished Steve would come home soon. He didn't like staying in the house with someone who was a complete stranger to him.

Speaking of the man...

Clint knocked on the door and Bucky tossed the pillow over his head. Why did Clint have to bother him so much?

"Hey, Bucky, can I come in?" Clint called out to him. Bucky snorted. Now he asked? Clint didn't ask earlier. What's the difference?

"No!" Bucky shouted. He didn't want to be bothered.

A sigh was heard on the other end. "I want to talk to you," Clint tried again and now Bucky was growling. Seriously? He just said no! "Bucky!" Clint pestered more. "Please let me in!" There was a long silence. "I'm gonna come in, okay?"

Bucky threw the pillow at Clint as he opened the door, but once again Clint didn't seem fazed. In fact he acted as if it had never happened. "I said no!" Bucky shouted and Clint held up his hands appeasingly.

"I just want to talk," Clint tried to say.

"I don't want to hear it," Bucky retorted. He folded his arms and glared menacingly at Clint. There was a brief stare off before Clint sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"Listen, kid," Clint began only for Bucky to grumble, "Not a kid!"

"And I couldn't agree more!" Clint replied causing Bucky to tilt his head curiously. "Which is why I was thinking. I know that your frustrated that your not allowed to do more and that you can't get a job. I also know that you need an opportunity to develop bonds so that you can start friendships. You don't trust me, but I've had something on my mind on how to get you to trust Steve's friends."

Bucky narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "And that would be?"

Clint paused before announcing suddenly, "I want you to go on a mission with me."

As his eyes widened in shock and then a wary expression donned his face, Bucky shook his head. Was he really asking this? Legally, he wasn't supposed to. He would get in trouble if he did. He was declared by the courts to be too mentally unstable to go on any mission with the Avengers or any military. And what did Clint want him for, to kill someone?

Defiance covered his face as he stared Clint down. "What do you want from me?" he demanded harshly, untrusting. "I don't kill anymore."

"I never said anything about killing," Clint replied, which puzzled Bucky. What else could he be wanted for? That was all he was skilled in. "And what better way to bond with people than to be in a situation where your forced to trust people?"

Bucky looked away while replying, "Steve will kill you if he finds out."

"Not if he never finds out," Clint retorted. "You can keep a secret, right?"

"You'll get me in a lot of trouble," Bucky pointed out. "Especially legally."

"So we don't let anyone find out. Besides, I've been planning this mission all week ever since I recieved a request from Steve to spend some time with you." 'Aka babysit,' Bucky thought. "Besides," Clint continued. "Don't you want out of this house?"

A sigh escaped Bucky as he considered what Clint told him. It **_was_** rather boring just staying here and doing nothing with Clint. But did he trust him? After all, he was asking him to do something that Steve would never approve of. And he was asking him to keep it from Steve. That made him suspicious.

"Why me?" Bucky asked. "And who else knows about this mission?"

"Uh, no one," Clint admitted. He scratched the back of his head warily. "In fact, we technically didn't have enough proof, so there's nothing that the Avengers can officially do about it. Nick didn't want us to interfere. He said that could make us look bad."

"But you disagree," Bucky narrowed his eyes.

Clint nodded. "This guy needs to be stopped before he has a chance to hurt anyone else."

This statement more than any struck Bucky. He pondered briefly on how he had been a captive of Hydra, hurt and brainwashed by them. He was kept amnesic and confused as to his identity. Only now that he was remembering did he know that he had begged them many times to know his identity only to be put in the horrid chair again. He had many times wished before he'd lost his mind and memory that someone would come save him. Could there be others in his position?

This, more than anything else made up his mind for him, even if he had to kill someone. He was not going to let anyone suffer like he had.

Clint seemed to have known that he'd won. It was so obvious by the expression on Bucky's face. "So you'll come with me?" he tried to confirm even though he already knew the answer.

Bucky turned to Clint. "Who do you want me to kill?"

Clint chuckled. "Like I said, this isn't a killing mission."

Puzzlement clouded Bucky's face. "Then how could I possibly be of use to you?"

Clint remained silent.

(A Few Minutes Later)

Bucky paced around the house as he waited for Clint to come back from his car. Agitation settled deep inside of him. He didn't know if he was making a mistake or not, but he knew that Steve would be very mad if he found out that they were going behind his back like this. Though truth be told, he might be more mad at Clint who was supposed to be watching Bucky. Steve had a thing where he did not want to put Bucky in harm's way. He obssessed over that after getting him back from the almost Civil War. That was the last time he let Bucky fight after nearly loosing Bucky.

Finally, the door opened, and Bucky tensed only to see that it was Clint. A couple of garment bags were draped over his arm as he whistled a tune like nothing was wrong. Curiosity entered Bucky, and Clint tossed one of the garment bags to Bucky who promptly caught it. "Get changed," Clint instructed and after glancing once more at Clint he headed to his bedroom while Clint headed to the bathroom in the hall. "And remember," Clint called out. "This is not official Avengers activity." Bucky rolled his eyes as he shut the door behind him.

Opening up the bag, Bucky gasped as he saw a tuxedo. It was made of the finest materials and had the impression of being made for the rich. But it only confused him further. First of all, where did Clint get the money for this? Second of all, he had assumed it would be tactical gear or something for combat like he had seen the Black Widow wearing when she and the others came off missions. Why would he be put in something like this? It didn't seem very safe for a mission and it didn't make him feel very safe going on a mission in something like this.

Despite his concern and confusion he stripped and put on the tuxedo and tie. Some black rubber bands were supplied and he put up his hair in a little pony tail.

The suit felt soft and fluid against his body. It was very supple and he was immediately comfortable in it despite the fact that he was uncomfortable with his circumstances. It moved everywhere he went, unlike the stiff combat suits he had been provided by Hydra that weren't very comfortable. He wouldn't have been surprised, and in fact he suspected, that the suit was made of silk.

It was also delicate and not so sturdy, less so than the casual wear that Steve had provided for him. He was afraid of the suit ripping, though it never seemed to. It was also much better fitted than the off the rack clothes that Steve bought for him and Bucky to wear. Having been used to, for many years, of having his clothes provided for him by Hydra, that had been an adjustment for him, upon leaving said organization, to get used to having clothing that didn't fit him so well. Even though his combat suits had been sturdy, they had been made specifically for him and his measurements. But by the time Steve had met up with him, he was used to not so fitting well clothing, so adjusting to what Steve gave him hadn't been an issue.

This suit, though, he could tell, had been made for him specifically, like the Hydra gear. That made him suspicious, first of all, where did they even get his measurements? He was much different in size and proportion than he had been in his Hydra days. Second of all, as Clint had to have commissioned this, this would have cost a lot of money. How did Clint pull it off?

Shuddering, but knowing that his mind was already made up to go with Clint, he stepped out of his room to find Clint waiting. Folding his arms, he demanded to know, "Where did you get this? How did you get my measurements?"

"What, you expected me to get you something off the rack for this mission?" Clint's innocent looking eyes were wide, and he seemed to to exaggerate his movements. "You have to be able to blend in."

Bucky was tired of Clint beating around the bush with him. He glared more and Clint finally relented. "It's a rich social function we're going to. You can't just wear anything off the rack, people will notice. You have to be able to blend in."

A sigh escaped Bucky and he realized that this was all he was getting for now. He was frustrated, but until Clint was ready to give him more information, there was nothing he could do,

But the next question from Clint threw him off. "How's your flirting coming along?" Clint asked Barnes and Bucky stared at him in shock and puzzlement.

"W-why do you ask?" Bucky stammered. It seemed like an absurd question to him. Then again, nothing about this mission or situation was like anything he'd done before, whether it was his days as a Howling Commando which memories were still unclear and fuzzy but at least there, or his days as a Hydra assassin which were terrifying and he was glad they were fuzzy and unfocused.

Clint cracked a smile at this. "What? I just figured since you remembered some that you'd remember how you were a ladies' man back in the day. At least that's what we're told."

A deep blush covered Bucky's face. "I'm not him!" he snapped and Clint shrugged, folding his arms as well.

"Well seriously, I've got to know."

"Why?" Bucky demanded getting uncomfortable with Clint's unusual requests. It was not like any interaction he had had with anyone, and it seemed a bit too personal for his liking. He shifted uncomfortably as Clint examined him, desperate to have a change of subject and yet not knowing how to ask.

"Because it's going to come in real handy, Bucky. This is espionage."

"Espionage!" Bucky's eyes widened almost in panic and his arms hung limpy at his side.

Clint chuckled some. "Yes, espionage. Like James Bond spy genres-"

"I know what espionage is," Bucky snapped. "And I'm an assassin, not a spy!"

Clint shrugged. "Where I come from, it's one and the same. If your a spy, you're also an assassin."

"Well I'm not!" Bucky panicked, his eyes widening in fear. Hydra had only been concerned with turning him into a stealthy killer. They'd cared less to use him for gathing information by interacting with people because he would have had to have autonomy for that. Hydra was concerned that giving him any autonomy would have made him turn on them and break the brainwashing and they were probably right.

"Relax," Clint came forward and tried to placate him. "I'll teach you how." But Bucky wasn't sure how he could seeing as he struggled with even the most basic of social functions. How was he supposed to teach him, let alone in a few hours time? "I just thought that perhaps your flirting would come back naturally to you. That was what I was hoping for, anyways."

Bucky tried to ignore Clint as Clint led him to the car and they began to drive away. It was a dark blue sports car he was driving. While they were driving, Clint gave him a bluetooth and a pair of dress gloves. "I've got a quinjet waiting to take us out of country. Then we're going to catch a limousine," Clint explained. Bucky nodded stiffly, nervous that he was going outside of country without permission.

As the road sped by smoothly, Clint gave him a quick smile. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Bucky shook his head.

(Present)

A scream tore through Bucky as several rounds pierced his body. The agents were hidden in the hallway and Bucky didn't even have any bullets to fire.

"Bucky!" Clint shouted in the earpiece.

Growling and ignoring the bullets piercing him, Bucky launched himself at his nearest attacker, a woman, and threw her into the wall, knocking her out. He picked up her gun and was about to fire at the man in a tux in front of him with a short black pistol fully cocked when he felt something strike him and hit him in the neck.

With a gasp of shock, Bucky pulled out a dart as his eyes began to close. 'No!' was all he could think as unconsciousness hit him.

How much time passed, he didn't know. But it couldn't have been that long because of his metabolism. At least he hoped not. But when he finally came to, he was strapped down by metal to a steel vibranium chair. Surprise coursed through him as he pulled and pulled. Despite this, even with the strength of his metal arm, he could not snap the steel.

Giving up, Bucky began looking around the room. The room was dark, (but not to his eyes), and there was a single steel door with a small, barred window. The room was square, and nothing else decorated the room, apart for him and his chair. The walls were bare and white, the colors he hated because it reminded him of the experimentation he went through. He shivered at that.

Looking down at himself, Bucky saw that his tux was in tatters. Blood stained the silk white undershirt, and he could tell that the bullets had been taken out while he was unconscious. He'd stopped bleeding some time ago. But out of everything, his dress gloves were in tact. Everything else, his gun, his cell, and his bluetooth had been taken.

He struggled against the bonds more to no avail, grunting with effort. Hydra had never taught him how to get out of his bonds unfortunately. Then they wouldn't have been able to wipe him and experiment on him, something that sent shivers down his spine. It was useless so he stopped struggling again, hoping that Clint would find him, and hoping that Clint hadn't set him up. He was hoping Clint was trustable.

Instead, Bucky decided to listen to what was outside the door, in order to gather information if he could. From what he could tell, there were thirteen people guarding his door and the hallway. They were armed, if the way their arms hit the weapons occasionally as they walked was any clue. From the sound it made, Bucky deduced that they must have been huge weapons, more than likely rifles.

His breath hitched as he heard six pairs of footsteps, one having an air of authority, approaching. "Open the door," a gruff voice said, and the door opened to reveal a thin, tall caucasian man in a tux and glasses. He had brown hair and a tiny nose. Behind him were two assistants, one female, his daughter, in a green olive evening gown with a blue silk shawl over her shoulders for modesty. Her lemon perfume wafted over to him, and he blushed as he remembered attempting to flirt with her, via Clints obscure instructions. He'd only succeeded in embarrassing himself. He really, really wasn't ready for social interactions.

The other assisstant was a male, also in a tuxedo and a bronze bow tie, a white napkin in one pocket.

The woman held a weapon in her hand, a large automatic rifle as she glared menacingly at him. The man only had a pistol. Bucky didn't see any weapon on the father, but as his shirt moved he could hear the buttons inside the jacket of his tux hitting a holster and knew the man was armed.

The man, Mr. Carter, circled Bucky with no expression on his face. Bucky kept his eyes straight forward, allowing himself to be inspected. As Mr. Carter stopped in front of him, he grinned wide, suddenly, pulling out his sunglasses from his front pocket and cleaning them before putting them away. "So, I find myself graced with the presence of the Winter Soldier and yet living to tell the tale."

Bucky's breath hitched. Hydra had never taught him how to lie. "I don't know what you're talking about," he tried to say in monotone, causing Mr. Carter to chuckle.

"I see you've met my eldest daughter. Find her pretty, do you? Now allow me to introduce you to my son in law, my late daughter's husband." With that he gestured to the other man in the room, and Bucky reluctantly met his eyes. The man narrowed his eyes at him as Bucky met his stare steadily.

Bucky's attention snapped back to Mr. Carter as the man rambled on again. "I must admit, I was rather surprised to see you at my function, and with Hawkeye, no less. Your tresspassing has caused quite the stir in my buisness. You've scared quite a few customers away."

"I could care less," Bucky retorted in defiance.

"But I've also gained a few customers," Carter smiled, and something about the way he said it made Bucky shiver and caused the temperature in the room to drop.

Despite his nerves, Bucky dared to venture, "What customers?"

Mr. Carter knelt in front of him, not unlike what Alexander Pierce would do to him when he was brainwashing him. "You're works, you're capabilities, do you know how many people would pay to have someone like you in their custody?"

Bucky's eyes widened in fear. But he shook his head. He didn't like where this was going.

Mr. Carter continued, "There are a number that are willing to buy you, even on the black market. Some have bid higher than others. In fact, it appears that some are... **_eager_**... to have you back." Another shiver went down Bucky's spine as he knew very well who the man was referring to: Hydra.

A dark chuckle escaped Mr. Carter. "Poor you. And yet you've managed to make me more money in a short time than any deal has. It appears the final bidder is Hydra. Makes sense. They're the only ones, really, that have the money to buy you back."

Inmdediately, Bucky began struggling against his bonds in panic. "YOU CAN'T!" he shouted desperately, eyes wide. Fear gripped his heart as emotions he couldn't explain tore through him. The pain of flashes of memory of cruelty ripped him apart and he felt his world shatter. Desperateness gripped him, and a begging look was in his eyes as he cried for mercy, "IT'S HUMAN TRAFFICKING! YOU CAN'T SELL ME A SLAVE!"

Mr. Carter laughed more and turned to leave. The daughter and son in law left, but Mr. Carter stopped as he reached the door. "But you see, my dear Winter, I already have." Mr. Carter left.

Bucky cried in anguish.

(Some time has passed)

For how long Bucky struggled against his bonds and cried, he didn't know. But eventually, the tears left his eyes and his nose dried up, leaving his tear stained face looking slightly puffy. He must have been left in that dark, cold room for hours.

He tried not to loose courage as he waited, hoping Clint would come find him. Some part of his mind accused Clint of setting him up, and while the majority of him believed that, some part of him that he would never admit secretly hoped that Clint was truly his friend like he had stated. He'd never realized how badly he'd wanted another friend until now, if he understand friendship that is. But if it was like Captain America was to him and how Steve treated him, then yes, he sort of understood friendship.

Groaning with stress, he struggled against his bonds again, desperate to get out of there.

Suddenly, shouts were heard, and next thing Bucky knew was that the door opened and another sturdy chair was placed beside him. The big men hauling the chair never paid him any attention, but as the shouting increased, Bucky realized with a start that it was Clint.

"Get off of me, you big goons!" Hawkeye hissed as he was dragged struggling into the room and restrained in the chair next to Bucky. Then the men left and the door closed again.

Bucky got a good look at Clint. He was stripped of his weapons and his nice formal suit was also in tatters, blood adorning the cuffs. He smelled of sweat, and Bucky was pretty sure that he'd been fighting for some time the way his hair was disheveled.

Sudden anger at his predicament and the fact that he was sold to Hydra gripped Bucky. Now he wasn't feeling so sympathetic towards Clint. "You know, I blame you for this," Bucky snarled and Clint sighed.

"I know, kid," Clint conceded, not looking at him, guilt on his face.

"Steve's going to kill you for this."

"I know."

Bucky snorted. "Worst babysitter ever."

(Earlier in the mission)

Bucky nervously rubbed his arms as they stepped into the grand ball room. There were so many people and already Bucky was feeling anxious.

In the flight earlier that day, Clint had given him a picture of a beautiful young woman with beautiful green eyes, a slender straight figure, and gorgeous blonde hair. "This is Olivia Carter, daughter of Hugo Carter. Your job is to get close to her and convince her to take you to the storage room. That is supposedly where they are storing all the illegal merchandise, along with who knows what else."

They were both currently in the pilot's chairs, however the quinjet was on autopilot, leaving their hands free. Bucky had stared at the picture of the beautiful woman in puzzlement, then turned to Clint. "And how am I supposed to do that?" he asked, a bewildered look on his face.

Clint shrugged and got up out of the pilot's seat, going to the back and bringing a box of weapons down. "Flirt with her."

Growling, Bucky got up out of the pilot's chair and paced the plane. "We've been over this already, Clint. I'm assassin, not a spy. I don't have undercover skills."

Clint stopped what he was doing and walked over to him. "Look, just try to bring the old Bucky Barnes back for a bit." Bucky glared at him for this and Clint held up his hands appeasingly. He sighed in exasperation. "Look, just walk up to her and tell her hi. Compliment her dress, even if you don't like it. Start a conversation. It's super easy."

"Well if it's super easy," Bucky snarled. "Then why don't you do it?"

Clint froze. "I can't. That's what I brought you along for, kid, to do the flirting."

Bucky folded his arms in defiance. "I won't. You can do it yourself," he stated and began walking to the front of the plane.

"I can't!" Clint called out, and Bucky ignored him, sitting in the pilot's chair again.

"No," was Bucky's answer.

"Yes," Clint ground out, trying to put authority in his tone, causing Bucky to suddenly stand up and walk in his face.

"I said no!" Bucky shouted. "I don't flirt. I **_can't_** flirt. You can't make me do it."

"Bucky," Clint said softly, causing Bucky to snap.

Throwing the nearest piece of cargo he could find clear across the plane, Bucky shouted, "You can't make me!"

Realizing Bucky was having a temper tantrum because he didn't recognize or understand his emotions, Clint sought to placate him and calm him down before he got even more riled up. "Please, Bucky! I **_can't_** do it! I just can't!"

"Why?" Bucky turned to him, and Clint sighed, turning away. A brief pause ensued between them.

"Because I'm married," Clint finally aquiesced, turning back to Bucky.

Bucky froze. He'd never known that, and a part of him wondered if Steve knew. But sudden understanding flowed through Bucky. He may not know much about marriage, but he knew that flirting with someone other than your marriage partner wasn't a good thing. Whoever his wife was, Bucky could see that he cared about her deeply. He also understood that this was why Clint had brought him along, in hopes that Bucky had retained some of his social skills from his days before Hydra.

Sudden fear gripped Bucky at this, and his knees shook. Walking up, Clint helped Bucky sit down. "Hey, it's not too hard."

"I don't remember how," Bucky moaned, and it was true, he was socially awkward if anything.

"Then I'll teach you," Hawkeye promised him. "I didn't win my beautiful wife for no reason at all." Silence reigned between them, and Clint added on in the most dangerous manner Bucky had seen out of him, causing him to gulp, "And don't ever tell anyone about her **_or_** that I'm married. I'll have your head if you do."

Bucky nodded swiftly for nerves. Then Clint proceeded to take a single gun out of the box he had taken down, handing it to Bucky. Bucky took a look at it and at the limited amount of amunition it contained. When it became clear after a few minutes that this was the only protection Clint was giving him, Bucky demanded in sudden concern, "This is it?"

Clint raised a lone eyebrow. "This is an information gathering assignment, not a killing mission. You shouldn't even need it."

Bucky looked down nervously at the gun again. "This isn't a lot."

"You shouldn't even need it," was the only response he was given. Clint then took the time to try to explain the subtleties and finalities of flirting with Bucky, which of course went way over his head. Bucky drowned out his confusion for the rest of the ride and when Clint asked him if he understood, Bucky nodded yes even though he didn't. Clint gave him a suspicious look and Bucky knew he wasn't convinced. But the man didn't bring it up with him again.

Bucky thought on this as they walked around the ball room. But suddenly Clint tugged on his jacket and Bucky looked in the direction that Clint was looking at. There, not to far away from him was the woman in the photograph conversing with other women. She was in an olive green evening dress, a shawl over her shoulders.

Clint lightly shoved Bucky in her direction, causing Bucky to glare. "Go talk to her," Clint encouraged,

"But I don't know how!" Bucky protested.

Clint sighed and rolled his eyes. "Remember what we talked about earlier, kid?"

Bucky gupled nervously. "Not a kid," he stated. Clint shoved him jerkily forward more and Bucky began walking over to her. But when Clint stopped, Bucky turned back in panic. Clint waved him on and Bucky soon realized that he was going to have to do this on his own.

The other women left Ms. Carter, and pretty soon Bucky was standing in front of her nervously. "Hi," he awkwardly began. "Um, I don't like your dress, but it looks good on you?" If only he could have seen Clint freeze behind him, a mortified look on his face.

Immediately, the woman looked offended. "And I suppose this dress makes me look fat as well?" she snarked back.

Bucky anxiously twitched, not sure what to say, hands in his pocket. Clint hadn't prepared him for this one. "Um, maybe?"

At this point Clint popped up behind him, looking red with embarrassment, leaving Bucky to wonder what he had done. "Hi," Clint introduced himself with a self conscious chuckle, slinging his arm around Bucky's shoulder to Bucky's annoyance. "I apologize for what my cousin said to you. You see, he's mentally ill."

"Ah," the woman angrily responded and turned on her heels, walking away.

Giving him a horrified look, Clint turned to Bucky. "What was that about?"

"I did what you said to!" Bucky snarled back, angry that Clint was trying to pin this on him. "You said to compliment her dress even if I didn't like it. Well, I did!"

Clint slapped his forhead in exasperation. "Yes, but I didn't mean that you should **_say_** that you don't like the dress!"

"You never mentioned that!" Buck was outraged.

Clint sighed in exhaustion. "Bucky, you are **_so_** socially impaired. Remind me to never take you to a high end social event again."

(Present)

Bucky was panicking more as time went on, struggling against his restraints. Clint was struggling to, but he had nowhere the crazed look in his eyes that Bucky did.

After Bucky's faux pas, they had, (or rather Clint had) opted for another route to investigate. And so Bucky had found himself in a line with others to go into other parts of the building. After he was through he snuck away, following Clint's instructions via the bluetooth. Unfortunately it had not ended well, for Bucky soon found out that it was a trap and someone had gassed the corridoor he was in, causing him to not think straight.

Eventually, due to bad decisions from the gas that they were hoping would knock him out but didn't, Bucky decided to hold up in one of the small filing rooms against better judgment. The gas was still messing with his brain. And that was how he came to be captured.

"Calm down, Bucky," Clint encouraged him, and Bucky couldn't help but snap back, deep panic settling in his bones.

"Calm down? You're the one who got me into this position! And now I've been sold to Hydra!"

A disturbed expression clouded Clint's face as he froze. "So it's true," he murmured softly, looking worried. "They're involved in human trafficking, selling people to work in factories."

A distressed cry escaped Bucky, and he turned to Clint the best he could. "Why didn't you tell me this before? We could have avoided all this!"

"I had no proof!" Clint snapped back. "That was the point of this mission!"

As Bucky struggled harder than ever against his restraints, his arms began bleeding. Tears were in his eyes, desperate to escape his fate.

More footsteps were heard and suddenly the door opened. In walked several men in tuxedos, and as their eyes landed on Bucky, delight covered their faces. In their hands were rags, bandages, and one even had a doctors flashlight. Bucky fought his restraints harder and whimpered upon seeing them.

"What do you want?" Clint snapped at the men.

Instead, they ignored him and stalked towards Bucky, the nearest grabbing him by the hair. The whites of Bucky's eyes could be seen as the other man shined the light in his eyes. "Leave him alone!" Clint snarled, spitting some. But the men merely chuckled as they began checking Bucky's injuries, which weren't there any more. But there was still dried blood on him.

The man holding Bucky's head by the hair was big and small, a bald man with brown eyebrows. As he grinned, Bucky could see that he was missing a front tooth.

However, the man that was inspecting Bucky like he was an interesting specimen Bucky assumed was a doctor. He eyed the man warily, fear of being hurt in his eyes, a remnant from his days with Hydra. The doctor was of medium build, an upturned nose, and was only partially bald, the hair on top of his head gone. "Need to see that the merchandise is in perfect condition," the doctor grinned at Bucky causing him to snarl at what they were referring to him as.

"Hey!" Clint roared in anger and indignation, his face coloring red in rage. "That was uncalled for!"

"Not a slave!" Bucky shouted, and the men laughed at him. But as the man ventured too close to his face with his hands as he examined Barnes, Bucky took the opportunity to bite down hard. The man shrieked and grabbed his bleeding hand. Next thing Bucky knew, he was being violently beat up by the men, bruises forming on his face. Bucky screamed and tried his hardest to shield and protect himself despite being restrained.

Voices from the past were in his ears and he knew a flashback was being brought on because of the harsh treatment. His sense of his surroundings diminished and he was only brought out of it as the abuse stopped and upon hearing Clint shout, "ENOUGH! LEAVE HIM BE!"

As he came to, he realized he was panting and scared. Looking up nervously, he could see the men glaring at him, yet they were wary of him to. He could tell that this time they didn't want to provoke a reaction out of him, seeing how dangerous he was. Part of Bucky felt smug about this, but the other part of him was terrified.

The doctor and brutal man appoached him warily. Eyeing each other for a moment, Bucky gave the most menacing glare he could. Finally, the doctor approached all the way. He sighed in frustration. "Now we've got to patch you up again."

Clint snorted in derision. "That wouldn't have been necessary if you hadn't beat him up."

"It wouldn't have been necessary if he hadn't have bit me!" the doctor snapped.

"Maybe you should have kept your hands to yourself, then," Clint retorted. Bucky continued to glare defiantly.

This time, Bucky was wary as the doctor began to inspect him and treat his already healing wounds. He stayed pefrectly still, not wanting to incur another beating. As the doc pulled his shirt partly away to examine his metal arm, Bucky trembled slightly, looking to Clint for fear and comfort.

Clint met his gaze steadily, but Bucky could tell that Clint was afraid, but not for himself. He was afraid for Bucky. "Be still," Clint silently mouthed, and as the doc began tracing the scar on his shoulder, then putting a cool, stinging ointment on, Bucky shivered involuntarily. Seeing this, the big man stepped forward, trying to be intimidating, though Bucky could tell that **_he_** was nervous to be so near a mentally unhinged assassin.

Breathing deeply, Bucky tried to calm himself the best he could, using techniques his therapist had taught him. It did little to help though. "These are old scars," the doctor grunted in satisfaction, stepping away and putting a cap on the ointment. He then proceeded to put the vial in a pocket on the inside of his jacket. Nodding to his comrade, the big man stepped away from Bucky, and Bucky couldn't help letting out a deep breath of relief. "Nothing that we can do about them. The rest should heal very easily and you should be presentable by the time Hydra comes."

Bucky was back to glaring, and the men soon left, the door shutting with a bang behind them.

As soon as they left and were out of earshot, Bucky let out a whimper of a cry, the stress getting to him. Clint was back to struggling against his bonds. "Easy, Bucky," he tried to reassure the mentally ill man. "We'll get out of here!"

"No we won't!" Bucky screamed in distress, fighting harder. "This is your fault, Clint!"

"I know!" Clint snapped back, but then his tone softened some, trying to be comforting. "I know your scared, kid, but you can't give up."

"Not a kid," Bucky moaned, leaning back some to take a break. He breathed hard and heavy, eyes closing, exhausted, especially emotionally. "Their going to hurt me again," he whispered softly, in forlorn.

"Not on my watch, kid," Clint tried to reassure him.

"Not a kid," Bucky grunted, and Clint chuckled some.

"We're all kids, truth be told."

How long the men stayed there, struggling to free themselves, Bucky didn't know. But eventually, the sounds of more footsteps was heard. A panicked gasp escaled Bucky as he heard what seemed like an army coming for him, and he struggled harder, but to no avail.

The boots stopped outside the door and chatter was heard, followed by a grunt.

"Just be careful, sir. He bit one of our doctors."

A snort of derision ensued and the door opened to reveal a middle aged man with scars from burns all over his face. Bucky's eyes widened in fear, and he heard a growl from Clint. "Rumlow," the archer snarled.

"Hawkeye," Brock greeted mildly, disinterested almost in his tone. But his eyes stayed on Bucky the whole time.

Brock entered the room and as he did so, Bucky could smell the sharp tang of his deoderant wafting over to him. He was complete in his Crossbones costume, minus the helmet, and as he waltzed slowly over to Bucky, Bucky tried to pull away but was unable to. Searching his former commander and trainer's face, Bucky could find no expression that allowed him to see what Rumlow was going to do to him.

Rumlow studied Bucky as well, stopling a few paces away. Circling Bucky, his eyes seemed to sweep over him, examining him, and a snort of derision sounded out of him as he stopped full circle in front of his former Winter Soldier. Bucky stared back. Then, just as suddenly, Rumlow stalked forward and grabbed Bucky roughly by the chin.

"Hey!" Bucky heard Clint shout, and only then was he aware from Clint's tone of voice that he had been watching everything carefully. Bucky had been too caught up in watching Rumlow beforehand that he hadn't paid attention to the other assassin in the group.

Defiantly staring back, anger in his eyes, he retained eye contact with the former Hydra commander until Brock released his chin roughly. "You've gone soft, Asset," Rumlow sneered derisively. "Look at you, allowing yourself to be captured like this, and crying the whole time your held captive."

Bucky glared at Rumlow.

"Beats being burned up like a stick," Bucky retorted back, knowing it would be a sensitive issue for his former commander. Sure enough, a fire burned in Rumlow's eyes, and he hit his asset hard.

"I remember you used to be more quiet," Rumlow snarked, and Clint rolled his eyes.

"I remember you being a jerk," Clint responded, causing Rumlow to hit him to.

"No matter," Rumlow whispered to Bucky. "You'll learn your manners again."

 **Yeah, I found out that my limit of words that fanfic will accept for a chapter is a little over 10,000 words. Which of course completely sucks because I prefer to write 12,000 word chapters. The rest of this chapter will be in chapter two.**

 **Please review if you are reading!**


	2. Chapter 2: Challenge

**I don't own Captain America.**

Chapter Two: Challenge

(Bucky Point of View)

"Beats being burned up like a stick," Bucky retorted back, knowing it would be a sensitive issue for his former commander. Sure enough, a fire burned in Rumlow's eyes, and he hit his asset hard.

"I remember you used to be more quiet," Rumlow snarked, and Clint rolled his eyes.

"I remember you being a jerk," Clint responded, causing Rumlow to hit him to.

"No matter," Rumlow whispered to Bucky. "You'll learn your manners again."

Bucky shivered at Brock's statement.

But Clint didn't seem to be done with his former comrade. "What are you doing working for your former friends again?" Clint asked as if they were old buddy buddies once more. "I heard you left, went on your own, started your own group, so to speak."

A small smile cropped up on the face of Crossbones. "I guess I never really left in my heart. I always believed in their cause, still do."

"Even at the cost of life?" Clint questioned seriously, as if trying to cause Brock to reconsider. But Bucky thought it was pointless, considering what he'd seen of the Strike team leader in his days.

Folding his arms, Rumlow considered the question. "I know we won't see eye to eye, Clint. I can't expect you to understand. You never understood Hydra and what it's all about, and I can't expect you to."

"Your right, I don't," Clint replied, and as they conversed, Bucky tried to subtly free himself again. Clint continued, jerking his head in Bucky's direction, causing him to stop as Rumlow glanced at him, "Like I don't understand how you can side with an organization that is willing to torture and brainwash someone, that is willing to cause them to suffer."

To Bucky's surprise, Brock flinched. He didn't think the man really cared about him. "I never said watching the mind wipes was easy," Brock replied softly, sympathetically. "But we did what we had to do."

"Seriously?" was Clint's outraged response. "That's the best answer you can give him?"

Brock shrugged indifferently, but for the first time Bucky could see the emotional conflict and a tiny bit of empathy for him in his eyes, something he'd never noticed before. And somehow, Clint had brought it out. "He was a dangerous weapon. We had to control him."

"Through pain?!" Clint challenged. "Come on, Brock. You're better than this."

"And I suppose you know how to control a dangerous weapon that could snap your neck in a heartbeat?" Bucky shivered at how the commander thought of him. Though he might have been right.

Meanwhile, Clint was shaking his head in disappointment. "What happened to the man who was angry when he discovered that over a thousand hostages that we tried to rescue in Paris were killed in cold blood before we got there? Where was that man who, when we rescued that woman from being trafficked to a work factory, was so upset to find that slavery was going on in the world, and was upset that sales were even being done in our own country? Where is the man that hated the abuse and torture of those soldiers we rescued? Or was that all a front and a hypocrisy when you were doing it all along to one of our own, a prisoner of war for over 70 years?"

"But don't you see?" Brock hissed. "Hydra would have ended it! It would have all stopped!"

Clint shook his head. "You know that's not true, Rumlow. Hydra's just as guilty, and I know that you see it."

Brock folded his arms and rolled his eyes. "He wasn't even human anymore."

A pause ensued. "That's not true, Brock. He was **_always_** human. And I'm sure thats the exact same excuse that those other people, those slavers and terrorists used about their victims also. Bucky was **_ALWAYS_** human."

A hesitation was in Rumlow's eyes and he turned to stare at Bucky again. As Bucky stared back steadily, he noticed that Rumlow's expression was unreadable. It was almost as if Rumlow was trying to read something, trying to read **_him_**.

But as quickly as Rumlow considered it, that was gone and replaced with a hard look in his eyes. "Doesn't matter," Rumlow quietly murmured, rubbing his chin in thought. "What's done is done. Nothing can change this."

"You can," and at this point Clint was pleading for Bucky. "You can decide differently, let him go." It didn't miss Bucky's notice that Clint was only pleading for Bucky. Clint wasn't included anywhere in the context.

Rumlow shook his head. "Doesn't matter. He belongs to Hydra. End of story."

Defeat and apprehension filled Bucky as Rumlow stepped outside the door, still in Bucky's eyesight. "Get the doctors in here. I want the Asset examined before we complete the deal," Brock called out gruffly to his team, and before he knew it, more doctors entered the room. Some of them Bucky vaguely recognized, and a shiver went down his spine as memories of what they'd done to him flashed in his mind's eye.

This time, Rumlow stayed in the background. "And do a psych eval while your at it. I want to see how much of the Asset's programming remains."

"Sir," the doctor in front acknowledged, and next thing Bucky knew, hands were all over him again, causing him to whimper. As he was treated like cattle and examined like livestock, Bucky cast Clint a worried look. "Be calm," Clint mouthed, but Bucky could tell that Clint was stressed and worried, without hope. But before a doctor moved in his way, cutting off his view of Clint, Clint mouthed, "Hang in there, kid."

They were examining the scars he got from being beaten. Some of them snickered at this. "Someone must have been mouthy," one of them commented, and it was only then that Bucky realized how well they actually knew him. Another of the doctors yanked his hair, causing him to look up, and another light was shined in his eyes.

"At least his pupils are reacting properly," another of the doctors remarked. Then more hands were on him again, inspecting where the bullet wounds had been. "How long ago since the Asset had been shot?" the same doc turned to Rumlow and asked.

Rumlow, who was watching everything with careful eyes shrugged. "It shouldn't matter as long as he's healed."

The doc turned back with a sigh."I just want to make sure that it's healing rate is still on par where it should be. I'd hate for him to be sent out into the field only for him to die because his healing rate is slower than it used to be."

There was another reply from Rumlow, "Some of this can be reviewed when we get back to base. What I'm more concerned about is that he is in perfect condition like promised, otherwise we're going to doc the price. I also want to make sure that at least some of his programming is intact so that we can control him and make transport easier. No doubt he's going to try to cause problems."

The doc snorted. "Shouldn't be a problem since he'll be sedated," the man commented, and Bucky began struggling.

Rumlow narrowed his eyes while he watched Bucky trying to get away from the doctors despite being restrained, and the doctors struggling to hold him still. "You know thst stuff doesn't knock him out completely," Rumlow snorted in derision. "It never knocked out Cap either. His metabolism burns too fast. And you say you can still handle him?"

"That's what the other drugs are for, complacency, obedience, and compliance," the doctor answered back.

"And you know that only works when coupled with mind wipes and conditioning. Plus, especially because of his metabolism, it takes time to build up the medicine and get it to stay his system. Even then it isn't permanent."

"No!" Bucky begged as the doctors struggled to hold his shoulders down as they examined his bullet wounds. "No more mind wipes!"

"Easy, Asset," one of the doctors tried to soothe him as he continued to struggle against him. Due to his struggles, the doctors weren't making any progress examining him. "Just let us do our work. It will all be over soon."

"No, I won't go back!" Bucky begged, and as he began hyperventillating from fear, a brief huff was heard from Rumlow. Evidently, the man was loosing his temper. As Clint struggled to say something in Bucky's defense, Rumlow quickly walked over and stuffed Clint's mouth, then proceeded to gag him.

"Just hurry up and check his programming already!" Rumlow snapped to his men in impatience as they continued to struggle against him. "At least if his programming is somewhat in tact, you'll be able to control him!"

Bucky shrieked at the mention of activating his programming, and Rumlow watched him in interest as they pressed him against the chair in an attempt to restrain him. Then, one of the doctors behind him moved his hair away from his ear and bent down and whispered all the while he struggled and screeched, "Tic, tock, the mouse ran up the clock."

As quickly as everything began, Bucky felt his body relax and his mind go into conditioned complacency and obedience, staring straight ahead. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, and all his feelings were gone. His world seemed hazy and drugged, unclear and unfocused. At that moment, he wasn't sure who he was anymore, and identity didn't matter. All he knew was that he was a weapon waiting to be commanded. Any sense of resistance had left him, and all that mattered was recieving orders and obeying. He had no idea he was Bucky Barnes.

"Asset!" a voice barked, and immediately, obediently, he turned his attention to the voice. A man with a scar face and burn marks faced him. The Winter Soldier gave him his full attention. Behind him, parting his hair to whisper into his ear again, a voice quietly droned, "Sweet becomes bitter and bitter becomes sweet."

Without understanding what he was doing, the Asser stood up. Then the scar faced man walked forward and whispered into his right ear while gripping his left ear with the tips of his fingers, "June becomes July." Immediately the Asset recognized the man as an authority figure and knew that he was to protect the man and obey his orders at all costs, even at the costs of his own limbs and life. Disobedience was not an option. At that point, he could hear no one but the scar faced man, unless it were a programmed command. Not even Clint and the noises he made while struggling registered, and Clint was being fairy loud.

The scar faced man stepped back, a smug grin on his face as he looked at the Winter Soldier. "Asset," he sharply commanded again, and Winter waited obediently for instructions. "You will remain still as these men examine you. Understood?"

The Asset nodded obediently, and was only vaguely aware of others near him, touching him. He didn't even hear or register that they were mumbling as they inspected him. Finally, the scar faced man who had been watching him turned away, and he seemed unhappy. "So, he was damaged," his authoritive leader angrily ground out. The burn man put a hand to his chin and rubbled it in thought. "We're docking the price for this. He was not offered for as promised."

Winter said nothing but stood completely still, being good as he waited for instructions. Suddenly, the scar faced man faced him again. But as he spoke, it was to the others, still staring Winter in the eyes. "Get him packed. I want him shipped out of here in ten minutes." The others acknowledged and Winter felt a vague poke in his arm and liquid starting to go in. His already muddled thoughts became even more middled and calm, though he didn't fall asleep.

Someone must have brought in a gurney, for he was guided to lie down on one. He went without resistance. All the while the burn man was watching him closely, as if to make sure he obeyed. As the world seemed to swirl around him, the burn faced man stalked to him and whispered into his ears, "Sputnik."

Winter's eyes closed, and he lost consciousness.

(Unstated amount of time)

Voices surrounded Bucky. Lots and lots of voices. Groaning, but unable to move or think clearly, he tries to open his eyes only to find that he doesn't have the energy to open them. He was still too tired.

He tried to reach into his memory to find the last thing he remembered. Unfortunately, the last thing he remembers was Hydra and Rumlow mentioning that they needed to check his programming. The doctors then restrained him as he panicked, and the next thing he knew was one of the doctors leaning over and whispering something into his ears. What it was, he didn't know, but all of a sudden, things were blank.

As the knowledge and memory of Hydra coursed through him, all of a sudden he found the energy to wake up. Gasping, he forced his eyes open, and immediately saw all of the doctors around him, surrounding him. A screech of fear left him, and he tried to get up in panic, only to see that he was restrained.

They forced him back down, and due to the IV he could see flowing through him, he was tired and didn't have energy to resist. "The sedative didn't hold him for long," the nearest doctor said, and a flashlight was shined in his eyes. He whimpered in fear. A sigh escaped the scientist on the far left. "The programming didn't hold him for long either. He managed to slip out of it and break it in not long a time. I figure it's not going to hold him for long each time we use it."

Bucky panicked. He didn't remember any of this! What else had been done to him while he was out of it? What else had he been forced to do? As he tried to struggle again, the doctor on his near left, a woman, took a needle and jabbed it into his thigh. Suddenly, he relaxed against his will, but his mind was still fairly panicked.

"He really needs a mind wipe," the lady doctor said with no emotion as if it was perfectly okay. Bucky struggled to have control over his emotions again so that he could panic. He fought against the relaxed feeling, but with minimal success. A groan escaped him. Somehow, he could feel the thrum of an engine, and he knew he was in a truck being transported to Hydra.

"He'll need several for the programming to stick," another doctor commented, and Bucky whimpered.

"No more mind wipes!" he begged, but he had little energy to even say the words. "They hurt."

"Perhaps," the woman doctor retorted matter of factly, no compassion in her tone. Only now did Bucky remember that she was one of the doctors that attended him and had prescribed a number of recommended mind wipes whenever he was deemed obstinate, all without any sedative or anything to dull the pain. And he would always get them. She was the doctor in charge of him and was fairly cruel to him. Her face was always emotionless and business like as he was wiped. She'd never treated him like more than an object or lab rat. Besides Zola, she was one of the most cruel doctors he'd had. "But they're needful. You'll feel much better once you get them. No more memories, no more distractions, no more emotional pain."

Bucky couldn't help it. He began crying in fear. He hated that machine. "Please!" he begged for mercy. "At least give me some sedative, something to numb the pain during the wipes! Knock me out!"

"No need," the woman coldly responded, the only emotion he had ever recieved from her. "You need to learn to operate through pain. Besides, it wouldn't work on you anyways."

"Please!" Bucky pled again, fear shown in his eyes, despite the drug going through him. "Please!"

The woman's eyes flashed in anger. "No!" she firmly, coldly responded.

As a soft whimper of fear escaped him, Bucky heard footsteps and suddenly Rumlow was standing amidst the doctors, a frown on his face as he stared at Bucky.

"The Asset's awake already?" Rumlow asked almost with a sigh, and Bucky could see the stress and pressure in his eyes.

"Unfortunately," the female doctor responded. "As expected, the sedative didn't keep it out long."

It didn't escape Bucky's notice, despite the medicine, that they had called him an it several times in this ordeal already. He hated that everyone seemed to be treating him like an object, merchandise, or something less than human. Clint and Steve had never treated him like this, and he rather enjoyed having such a high status amongst them and being treated like he was worth something instead of a weapon. He wanted to go home to Steve badly.

"And the programming?" Rumlow continued on.

The woman doctor sighed in frustration. "Not holding, sir," was her response causing Rumlow to frown even more. "We really need to get it's mind wiped."

"No!" Bucky screeched and somehow found the energy to struggle again. As he did so, some of the doctors injected him with more medicine and he began feeling dizzy.

Rumlow walked up to him. "Sputnik," he commanded authoritively again, and Bucky felt his eyes droop. Even though he immediately forgot the command code as he was programmed to, and even though he was tired, he fought as hard as he could. This time, the command only managed to keep him in a half asleep, half awake state. Blackness was all around him, but he still had some sense. He could hear voices, and he could tell that he was convulsing with a seizure on the table. He also felt a wetness in his eyes as blood seeped through, and the angry voices increased.

"It was supposed to knock him out!" Rumlow snapped, the anger making Bucky want to flinch, which he couldn't with the seizure going on.

"He is partially out," one of the doctors pointed out.

"You know what I mean," growled Rumlow, and the mood all around Bucky changed. "It was supposed to knock him out all the way."

"He desperately needs to be reprogrammed," the female doctor emphasized. "Then this won't happen again. A mind wipe would reinforce the programming. Right now, it's barely working and holding him. He's fighting it."

"Then use the drugs again!" Rumlow's voice emphasized, and for the first time, Bucky could hear the fear in Rumlow's voice, even though it wasn't obvious. He was afraid of him. "We can't afford to have him go on a rampage. Unless that's what you want?"

"No sir," was a chorus of answers.

"Then get it under control!"

It. There was that word again.

Bucky moaned as his consciousness began returning more, and suddenly he felt hazed and dizzy. Opening his eyes which were now crested with blood, Bucky saw the female doctor putting something into his IV. He tried to move but found his movements sluggish. Planning escape at this point seemed futile, and a part of him realized that he might not stand a chance at all.

It was a scary thought. At this time, Bucky's only hope was that Steve knew he was missing, and that he cared enough to come get him. Bucky hoped that Steve cared about him, but he had to wonder. A part of him still felt like maybe Steve did abandon him the last time, the part that Bucky always denied when asked.

How long Bucky stayed in that mellowed state, he didn't know. But eventually, Bucky noticed Rumlow return and chat quietly. He didn't even bother to try to figure out what the man was saying. Bucky simply gave up fighting, feeling it was pointless. But he was still very, very afraid of what he knew would happen to him.

"He's calmed down for now," Bucky caught the tail end of the conversation, startled some as Rumlow and the doctor walked over to him.

"Then make sure it stays that way," Rumlow commanded gruffly. "We're still a long ways out."

"Understood, sir," the doctor acknowledged and walked away.

Rumlow was staring at him, Bucky's hazy eyes staring back, when all of a sudden there was a screech and a crash, and the whole vehicle was titled sideways. Rumlow was violently thrown into the side of the vehicle into the medical equipment, groaning in pain as blood began pooling from his side.

Bucky's heartrate increased, despite the medicine. He was significantly less jarred, unlike the other occupants, due to being strapped down. It had acted like a seatbelt for him. Looking around, he noticed a few other doctors knocked out and blood was coming out of the female doctor's side as she lay hunched next to a bunch of cargo that had come down and on top of her. A little ways behind her, one of the other doctors lay dead. Bucky noticed this all in the span of a heartbeat, and his eyes widened.

"What on earth?" Rumlow shouted at the drivers, but the transport was not moving anymore and a creepy silence ensued. Despite his injuries, Bucky watched Rumlow get up and try to head to the front of the vehicle, when all of a sudden there was another crash and Rumlow was sent flying, bashed into the wall. This time, the transport continued the motion and with a scream Rumlow crashed into the floor, the vehicle in a roll over.

Bucky felt weightless, the pit of his stomach tensing, and with a smash, Rumlow hit the opposite wall and the ceiling. Eyes wide, Bucky was now facing the ceiling as if it were the floor, dangling from his restraints as they dug into his skin. Objects were flying past him and cutting him, the IV painfully digging further in than it was supposed to. The movement continued and the restraints keeping the gurney bolted to floor snapped, sending Bucky slamming into the ceiling while still restrained. The whole vehicle was sliding, and Bucky felt him and his gurney pulled in the opposite reaction.

For a moment, Bucky lost consciousness due to the trauma of it all. But when he came to, he knew he had some flesh wounds which were now healing, the IV painfully pressed further in.

As he lay on the ceiling, the weight of the gurney on top of him, darkness was around him. Despite this, Bucky was pulling on his restraints. He screamed desperately as he did so, wanting to make a break for it.

Rumlow's painful groan was heard, and Bucky listened as Rumlow got to his feet.

"What on earth?" Rumlow whispered, his footsteps coming closer to Bucky who was struggling against his own restraints.

Suddenly, gunfire was heard and Rumlow yelled out in pain. Bucky began panicking even further and he'd resolved to break his wrist in order to get out of the restraint when suddenly Rumlow flipped the gurney over with a groan.

Now that Bucky could see Rumlow, he noticed that the man was bleeding from his chest, a bullet wound. Bucky stared at him with wide eyes, Rumlow shaking from loss of blood as he undid the restraints on Bucky. Some blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and he panted as slid over to undo the other restraints on the legs of his Asset.

As soon as Bucky was released, gunfire still going through the vehicle, Bucky rolled over, moaning slightly. Rumlow was in the middle of pulling downs some weapons, a few knives, some handguns, and a couple of rifles, He handed one of the rifles to Bucky, much to Winter's surprise. Not one to hesitate, he accpeted it immediately, surprised that he was being armed by his kidnapper/captor/owner.

Rumlow grimaced as he saw Bucky's questioning gaze. "I don't have much choice if I'm going to survive, do I?" was the explanation Bucky got. "Just don't go far."

"And how do you know that I won't kill you when this is all over?" Bucky snapped back, glaring at him. Then he hissed as a bullet pierced him, his flesh arm bleeding.

Brock narrowed his eyes at him before grinning evily. "I still got those command words, don't I?" Bucky shivered at this, hesitant for a little bit. In the end he was still a captive. "Besides, right now we need each other to survive. And I need your skill set."

"I'm not helping you!" Bucky refused, hissing as another bullet wound was inflicted. A clenched shout from Rumlow was heard and he knew immediately the commander was hit.

"And I can always make you with the programming," Rumlow retorted, Bucky widening his eyes in fear, then Rumlow hissed again. "Dang it! We don't have time for this, Asset! Like it or not, we have to work together for now. Everyone else is dead. You and I are the last."

"I'm not helping you!" Bucky shouted, and Rumlow stared seriously at him, anger in his gaze.

"Tic, tock, the mouse ran up the clock," Rumlow angrily responded.

Everything for Bucky went black.

(Steve Point of View)

Steve felt elated as he rode home on his bike after his unofficial date with Natasha. All seemed well, and he relished the feeling of the evening wind whipping through his hair. All was calm and he felt like he'd made progress in his relationship with Natasha. She'd opened up to him in a way she'd never done before, entrusting him with some of her deepest and darkest secrets, while at the same time letting him see more of her personality. For Steve, it was progress.

He sighed as he brought his motorcycle to a halt on the street he lived on, not bothering to put his bike in the garage. He never did.

It was a fairly big house, a three story house with a basement. The garage was attached to the side, and there was an attic a over the living quarters the whole length of the house, even on top of the garage. The front lawn was large and required a large riding lawn mower to cut it all. Bucky loved to cut the grass, probably because he could ride it since he wasn't allowed to drive let alone have a drivers liscense. And since it brought some measure of joy, Steve let him, as long as Bucky didn't mow the flower garden in front, or ruin the lawn mower on the rock garden out front.

The house though large, was somewhat older. You could tell that the garage was added later. But it was still nice and to Steve a luxury, something he'd never thought he'd been able to afford back when he'd lived in the Great Depression.

The back was nothing but a giant garden and a shed that had a wood shop and metal shop in it. There was also a root cellar in the back that Steve and Bucky had installed together, something that reminded Steve and Bucky of things when they had grown up. The flower garden was on the right, something Bucky loved to wander and ponder in when he wanted his alone time. The food garden was even bigger. There was a pond with a homemade river and by there was the other rock garden in their large backyard.

What Steve also liked was that their neighbors didn't bother them. It gave Bucky time to heal. Steve knew he needed that.

Taking his helmet off, Steve walked up the sidewalk to the front door, unlocked it and opened it. But as he opened it, he turned around in puzzlement that he didn't see Clint's car. Shrugging and shaking it off as nothing, he walked in and locked the door behind him, stepping into his moderate sized living room.

"Bucky, I'm home!" he called out, hanging his helmet up on one of the hooks by the door before switching the light on. He frowned when he saw the coffee table pristine clean of a mess, something that didn't seem like Clint. Walking into the dining room, he saw the dishes were clean and put away, also unlike Clint who usually left things strewn about, even when he'd lived in the tower.

An odd, uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of Steve's stomach. Rushing into the upper levels of the house, Steve yelled, "Clint! Bucky!"

He checked every room, but upon realizing they weren't there, he checked the lower levels. Finally, upon seeing no one there, Steve tried one last avenue - he checked Bucky's room.

Opening the door, Steve was greeted with a surprise. Bucky, who was usually organized, had left the hoodie and jeans he had worn earlier, strewn on the floor.

It finally dawned on Steve that he had to accept the dreaded fact that his best friend was gone and nowhere to be found. Closing the door, Steve let out a cry of agony.

(Clint Point of View)

Being bound and gagged to a chair wasn't pleasant. But what was even more unpleasant was knowing that he was responsible, indirectly, for returning the Winter Soldier to Hydra. And here he had promised Bucky that he would keep him safe. He'd broken that promise.

'Steve is going to kill me!' Clint realized with a groan. He was not looking forward to this conversation with Cap.

Wiggling his arms and hands, he finally felt some of the bonds loosen, and Clint tried to work with it. Suddenly, it got a little tighter, and he grunted in frustration. But as he worked the bonds, they got looser agaim, slipping down his arms some. Now if only he could get them down and off his hands.

The door opened, startling him, and he quit struggling to hide what he'd already accomplished. In walked Hugo Carter and Olivia Carter, and the other man from earlier.

Hugo chuckled upon seeing him, circling him like he was triumphant. "You know, I never thought in all my wildest imaginations that I'd have an Avenger at my mercy." He stopped in front of Clint, and Clint glared. He remembered all to well that the man had sold his friend Bucky to Hydra and he was not happy about it. 'And he's going to pay for it,' Clint thought. 'When I'm done with him, he won't even know his name!'

Hugo was staring at Clint in interest, hand on his chin. "But what to do with you?" Hugo contemplated. "Hydra didn't want to buy you, nor did any other bidder. And yet the Winter Soldier was **_very_** popular. Everyone wanted him. I guess that means you're a second rate assassin?"

Clint kicked out in anger at being called a second rate assassin. His skills were very good, thank you very much. But his feet didn't go far because of the restraints. Hugo chuckled upon seeing this. "I'm not a second rate assassin!" Clint shouted through the gag, but of course it didn't come out like that. Olivia was glaring at him, then suddenly she started examing her fingernails in impatience. The large rifle in her hands was pointed downwards, but the thing Clint noticed most was that she wasn't really paying attention.

'Must come from arrogance,' he thought in his head, an opportunity seen and a plan forming in his head.

A small grin was forming on Hugo's face. He bent forward, mocking Clint, "Here's an idea. There's no way I can sell you to a work factory, but how about I sell you as a prize to Argo?" Clint's eyes widened. Argo was a terrorist group that he and Nat had infiltrated a few years back, stole some information, and exposed. They were still angry with him to this day. Many them were eager for vengeance on him. Argo may not have been as widespread or dangerous as Hydra, but they were still certainly a problem. Hydra was merely a bigger threat.

Hugo stood up and chuckled, beckoning with one finger to his daughter and the other man. He turned to leave. "Yes, I think that's what I'll do. If only my late daughter could have seen my accomplishments today! Oh well, I'll have to settle with my eldest daugher and my son in law knowing." With that they exited the room.

Clint growled in annoyance. This so wasn't his day! But as soon as he'd rolled his eyes, he went right back to struggling against his bonds. They were nearly undone. As soon as he was done here, he was going to assault Olivia and take her rifle (he regretted not bringing his bow and arrow along, but for this mission it would have been too noticeable. He was using guns instead).

Olivia wasn't very vigilante when it came to her surroundings. She must have felt safe enough to be lax. Then he was going to slowly cut Hugo apart for selling Bucky a slave. Then he was going to rescue Bucky and inflict worse wounds on Rumlow than he had received from having a building dropped on him.

Plan in mind, Clint finally made it out of his bonds, grinning as soon as he got the gag off and cloth out of his mouth. Not too soon afterwards a giant boom was heard and gunfire sounded.

Realizing that he had to work quickly, Clint opened the door, surprised that it was unlocked. Apparently Hugo and his family were so arrogant that they hadn't thought that he could escape his bonds. The guards, startled that he was out and about, went down with a series of punches and powerful high kicks from Clint. He may not have been as graceful as the Winter Soldier in combat, but he certainly knew how to get a job done.

Blood was on the corner of his lips from recieving a few hits and punches himself, but at least the guards were knocked out. Satisfied, he gave a nod and inspected both guards, grabbing two rifles, eight hand guns from various hidden places on their person, and several knives. Man, they sure outfitted these guys! But it was to his advantage.

Walking away, he began sniping and picking off the guards in the hallways, gunfire heard from other parts of the building. In fact, he could hear the screams of men and women, party guests no doubt.

Clint had a good idea where his belongings were being kept, a storage room on the floor above him. Running down the hallway to the winding staircase, he shot what few guards he saw coming down the hallway away from the gunfire, killing them instantly. Then he turned right onto the marble staircase, taking the stairs two at a time. Seeing another guard, this one wearing a bullet proof vest, he shot the guard in the head, stripped the vest, and put it on. He regretted not bringing at least under armour for him and Bucky, but he hadn't anticipated Bucky failing and getting captured with his assassin skills. That, and it would have made his clothing too bulky, giving them away.

At the top, he ran down the hallway half way, stopping at the metal door on his right. Trying to jiggle the ornate, round handle, he sighed as it was locked. Taking a picking tool out of his shoe, he picked the lock then opened the door, jamming the item quickly back in his shoe.

There, on a table in a vast storage room, was his cell phone and guns. Deciding to keep the guns he had just in case (there was still a lot of gunfire below), Clint took his weapons and pocketed his cell phone. Closing the door, he turned left, went down the hallway and down the stairs again.

Clint stopped whe he reached the edge of the stairs. Voices were heard, coming to his left, Clint out of sight, and as he strained his ears, he heard Hugo talking.

"They must be here for the Winter Soldier. That's the only explanation."

"But what do we do?" Olivia's strained voice was heard. "We have nothing to give them. The Winter Soldier was sold to Hydra!"

"They don't care about that!" the brother in law snapped. "That's why they're here, to take him for themselves. They've already killed twelve hostages, and if they discover that they were too late and that Hydra already took him, the rest of the hostages will die."

Clint rolled his eyes. He could care less sbout the hostsges since they were all involved in human trafficking. In fact, rumors were said that that was why they attended these parties, to buy and sell slaves or to contract their slaves for slave labor. He didn't care if they lived or died. What he cared about was getting Bucky safely back home, especially before Steve found out he was missing.

"What if-" Olivia was saying, then suddenly, footsteps were heard. Automatic gunfire ensued, Olivia's blood curling scream was heard, and a loud explosion rocked the vicinity. The hallway and Clint's entire area was thrown up in a massive upheaval of stone, rock, and fire. Clint was thrown backwards and landed harshly on his head, blood trickling from his scalp, crying out in pain, slightly dazed.

All was eerily quiet, and for a moment Clint lay there panting. 'Someone threw a grenade,' he vaguely realized in the back of his mind. Groaning, he pressed his palms to the floor and forced himself to get up.

The entire area was in tatters. The stairwell was no longer, a massive hole in the area, the first steps seen about eight feet above as the only intact steps. A little ways down from where the stairwell was, rubble from the roof above collapsing was seen, and in front of the stairwell were Hugo, his daughter Olivia, and his son in law whom Clint had never learned the name of.

Clint walked closer, tip toeing slightly in case they were alive. But as he stood over Olivia, he noticed her sightless gaze and knew she was dead. A touch on her wrist confirmed it, no pulse.

Quickly checking the pulse on the others and confirming their death, he shrigged and began making his way out of the building. He had no pity for them. They were slave owners themselves and they had sold Bucky a slave. He could care less about their deaths.

The hole created by the grenade led to the outside, and as Clint walked away to the parking lot, he passed the dance hall he had been in. It was filled with rhe bodies of the hostages. He didn't care. While he had been here, he had confirmed the rumor that these were slavers attending the meeting to lend "merchandise" and to buy "merchandise". He could care less for the death of slavers. In his mind they got what they deserved. Hopefully with his information someone would be able to find the kidnapped people sold as slaves and return them home to the various countries they had come from.

Limping, Clint walked to the nearest limousine and hotwired it, getting out of there before the authorities could show up. It was curious in his mind that after the grenade he hadn't seen the attackers. He could only assume that they had discovered the Winter Soldier wasn't there, and so they had left to who knew where.

Groaning, Clint stretched his back and was on the highway when his cell phone rang. Pulling over, like a good boy, he got out of the car to answer his cell phone. He needed a break anyways after what he had just gone through.

Looking at his cell phone, Clint cringed when he saw that it was Steve. But he had no choice but to answer it. "Hello?" he timidly asked.

"Clint!" came Steve's panicked voice on the other end. "Where are you?"

Clint winced. Uh oh. He knew that tone. He was in trouble. "Why do you ask?" he tried to delay, trying to keep his tone as innocent as possible.

"Because you're supposed to be at my house with Bucky!"

"Yeah, about that," Clint began, not sure how to approach the topic. After all, what was he supposed to say? Oh, by the way, I took your best friend on a mission and he got captured and sold as a slave to Hydra? That wouldn't go over well.

A pause was heard on the other end. "Clint..." Steve ground out in warning. " ** _Where is Bucky_**?"

"Not at your house," Clint confirmed, rubbing his back in an attempt to soothe his aching muscles.

But this only made Steve mad. " ** _WHERE IS BUCKY_**?"

Clint had to hold the phone away from his ear at the furious loud tone that Steve had shouted. Putting it back to his ear, he tried to placate, "Okay, calm down, Steve."

"I'm not calming down!" Steve demanded. "Not until I know where Bucky is!"

"It's a long story-" Clint tried to reassure him, but was cut off by Steve.

"Then shorten it!"

Realizing he was not going to get any sympathy and that he may as well get this over with, Clint relayed everything that had happened, not even ommiting Hydra. "And for the record," Clint added as a bonus. "I acknowledge that this was my fault."

" ** _YOU DID WHAT_**!?" Steve shrieked upon hearing of Clint and Bucky's adventures.

Frustrated, Clint shouted back, "I took Bucky on a mission! Okay!?"

A dead silence was on the other end of the phone as Steve seemed to process all of this. He was very angry, Clint could tell. And whenever Steve was furious, there was often a deadly silence as he contemplated the whole situation. Fortunately, Steve rarely got that mad. Unfortunately, this was certainly one of the things that would anger Steve into this kind of fury. Anything involving Bucky in danger would anger Steve to the point of no reason.

It was Steve who broke the silence. "We are going to have a talk about this when we get back."

Clint winced. "I know." He gulped. He wasn't looking forward to an angry Captain America chewing him out.

"I trusted you, Clint. That's why I chose you. You broke that trust."

"I **_know_** ," Clint emphasiazed.

"I don't know if I can ever trust you again after this."

"I know," was Clint's forlorn whisper. But he knew he deserved that. "But I'm going to make this up to you, okay? I'm going after Bucky-"

"No!" was Steve's firm, angry tone, to Clint's surprise. "I don't want you touching Bucky! I don't want you near Bucky, I don't even want you so much as even **_looking_** at Bucky! You stay away from him! And if I **_ever_** hear of you **_near_** him again, _**I'LL DISEMBOWEL YOU AND SCATTER YOUR INNARDS ACROSS THE NEVADA DESSERT! CAPICHE**_?"

Clint froze and gulped in fear, shivering at the mental image. "Yeah, I get the picture! You don't want me near Bucky!" Yep. Cap was definitely mad.

A long silence ensued and Clint chose not to speak.

It was Steve who broke the silence. "You do realize that I could charge you with kidnapping for this?"

A sigh escaped Clint. "For the record, Bucky consented to this."

" ** _For the record, Bucky is mentally ill and easily persuaded_** _._ How's that for the court of law?" Steve ground out.

Clint winced. "Yeah, I see your point," Clint admitted. He would get convicted and meanwhile Bucky would get off scotch free. Steve was right. Even Clint had noticed that Bucky, if you used the right words (like the words he had used) was easily persuaded due to his past brainwashing. Clint had counted on that when he pitched the idea to Bucky. The poor guy still didn't think straight, and he had taken advantage of him. Bucky wasn't exactly thinking straight, and thus why he had a legal guardian. There were still things that Bucky couldn't understand due to the trauma he had endured.

More silence ensued and Steve talked next. "Tell me where you're at. I'm coming to get you and then we're going to get Bucky. But I don't want you near him. You're just there for backup and to cover me in combat. Okay?"

"'Kay!" Clint gulped.

"Where are you at?"

"South America," Clint gulped, then waited for the bad reaction that he knew would follow.

" ** _South America_**!" Steve roared. " _ **You took Bucky out of country**_?"

"Yes!" Clint squeaked.

More silence then followed. "Give me the directions," Steve demanded and Clint let out a sigh of relief. Obediently, he complied, and he walked back to the limo to wait. "Stay where you are," Steve instructed. "I'm picking you up."

Clint didn't even get in any more words edge wise for Steve hung up swiflty. Groaning and with a scream, Clint launched his phone clear across the car. Then he placed his elbows on the steering wheel and put his head in his hands, rubbing his head.

"This is a mess."

(Bucky Point of View)

Silence. Bucky hated silence. But what he hated even more was when people took advantage of him and forced him to do things he didn't want to do.

He didn't know for how long his world was blank, but when Bucky came to he was in strong metal cuffs behind his back that not even he could break and he was being forced to walk by Rumlow.

Panicking, Bucky stopped and turned around, noticing Rumlow in his Crossbones suit, a large rifle in his hand, pointed at his back. "Keep moving!" Rumlow gruffly growled.

Bucky took one nervous look at the gun and decided not to move. "What did you make me do?" he demanded to know.

Instead, Rumlow said nothing, he narrowed his eyes and jabbed his rifle into Bucky's back, causing him to hiss. He may be healing, but he was still sore.

"Who were those people?" Bucky tried this time. "Why did they attack?"

Sighing, Rumlow ran a hand over his head. "They were after you," he confessed, for the first time imparting information to Bucky. "You see, when you went for sale, you were a very popular buy. A lot of people were interested in you because of what you are capable of. But Hydra outbid them all. We had the resources to. It's not surprising that that created a lot of disgruntled people."

A hesitation was in Bucky's eyes this time. Even if he managed to escape Rumlow and his programming, there were still a lot of people who wanted him. That made him nervous and wary.

But he still wanted his question answered. He hated not knowing. Rumlow nudged him again with the rifle, and he refused to move. "What did you make me do?" he demanded again.

Brock clenched his jaw. "Keep moving," he demanded.

Bucky turned to face him full. "No. I want an answer, and I'm not doing anything I don't want to do."

An amused chuckle escaped Crossbones. "What? You think you're free all off a sudden, Asset?" He laughed more at this.

Cheeks turning red in anger, Bucky snapped, "Stop calling me that! My name is Bucky."

" ** _Asset_** ," Rumlow emphasized, and Bucky shook with anger.

Launching himself at Rumlow, he moved to attack as Rumlow stood still in amusement at his slave's antics. Bucky moved in for a kick meant to inflict pain, and Rumlow didn't even as much as flinch. But as he was about to strike Rumlow, suddenly Bucky found that he couldn't move his foot any further.

Choking in disbelief, stunned, Bucky moved back and tried again. But this time Bucky found that he couldn't do it either. He could never make contact as his muscles would freeze and prevent him from moving.

"What?" Bucky gasped as Rumlow continued to watch him in humor. He looked to Rumlow in panic. "What did you do to me?"

Rumlow smirked. "Some of the programming is still in tact, remember?" Bucky shivered at this and his mind was desperately in denal. 'There's no way he can control me,' he told himself. 'There's no way he can control me!' Brock continued on in almost a boast, "I programmed me to be your commander, an authority figure of sorts. I was given the command words by Pierce after Mitchel died. I just never thought to use them until now because you obeyed Pierce so well there was no need."'

Bucky shivered as he remembered Mitchel, the cruel man who loved to whip him. He never belonged to Shield but he'd owned some banks and was a good friend of Pierce's. The bank Bucky had often been detained in for mind wipes and cryo freeze had belonged to him until he had died. Pierce had inherited it then in Mitchel's wills, or so Bucky found out sometime later after he had left Steve on the Potomac, searching for his identity. Mitchel had died a year before the Insight helecarriers were launched.

Bucky had never known that Pierce had given the words as commander to anyone else. Unfortunately, with the programming, Bucky knew there were certain conditioned responses and behaviors programmed in, not that he remebered them. He didn't know what they were and it only helped to contribute to his feeling that he couldn't trust himself anymore or his decisions now that he was a puppet again. How did he know that he wasn't subconsciously doing what Rumlow wanted him to do? And who knew who else had the words to make himself or herself a commander to Bucky at any time?

If anything, though, Bucky was in denial of the truth. "You're lying!" he clenched his teeth. "No such words exist! There is no way you could have programmed me to be your slave!"

"Oh yeah?" Rumlow raised one of his eyebrows. "You say that and yet you can't hit me like you're held back? Like you're _**programed**_ not to?"

"You lie!" Bucky repeated. "And if you weren't lying, then why not make you my handler instead?" After all, a handler had greater authority and control over him.

Rumlow shrugged, frustrations in his eyes. "Yeah. I have no doubt that I'd make a better handler than who we're going to and who is going to be your handler. Unfortunately, I was never given the code words and procedures for that. Pierce never past that to me. Guess he only wanted me as a second in command in authoriy over you."

Bucky could hear the bitterness in his words, something that Bucky had never noticed Rumlow having for Pierce in the past, at least not that he remembered. While he hadn't understood emotions back when he was the Asset, and he still didn't he had come to a lot of realizations after he left Hydra and started getting his memories back.

One of these realizations was on his few interactions with past people in Hydra, finally udnderstanding some of their more subtle meanings, like when they were mocking him and he hadn't realized it or understood it. Another was on the interactions between Hydra members that he had seen for they often talked about him as if he wasn't there or he didn't understand what they were saying. And at the time he didn't understand, but now he did. At least this was of what few fuzzy memories of his time with Hydra he had, which weren't pleasant.

But as Bucky sifted through his hazy, unclear and unfocused memories, he found that he'd never seen bitterness or animosity berween Pierce and Rumlow. In fact, even when Rumlow was third in command, in authority after Mitchel, Brock had had nothing but profound respect for his leader, Pierce.

Bucky snorted. "What happened? Only now realizing how terribly Hydra takes care of everybody, even it's own members?" He was hoping for a reaction and he got one.

"No, actually," Rumlow set his gun down, at ease. He folded his arms, watching his Asset closely. Then Bucky got the explanation. "I was second in command after Mitchel died, and as such I was in charge of you after Pierce. In fact, Pierce had made me second in command because he trusted me so much. And he trusted me a lot with **_you_** , which is saying a lot since he didn't trust very many members of Hydra, especially to get the things he wanted done efficiently. He especially didn't trust very many around you.

"But he knew I could. He never wanted anyone near his dangerous weapon that he couldn't trust, or who he knew couldn't control you or keep you in line. But I'd interacted with you so much and had done a good job in keeping you that he allowed me to be second in command. So he gave me the code words to control you as a commander."

Bucky didn't know if it was creepy or interesting watching his time with Hydra under Pierce in new eyes. But then Brock huffed a growl. "The code words and procedures as **_handler_** were only ever entrusted to two people at most at a time. After all, you couldn't have multiple people attempting to control the Asset like that. He'd get confused if it were possible to have two handlers, which it isn't, especially as to who was over him and his handler, who was his ultimate authority.

"In fact, only one was supposed to control you at a time as handler, though you could have a commander. You also didn't want someone taking you as handler and confusing you attempting to turn you against your previous handler, which wouldn't have worked because of the programming anyways. It would have just messed up your programming and messed up you in the process, if it were possible to have more than one handler at a time.

"But that doesn't mean people didn't try. Thankfully they never got the command words and protocals. They didn't understand what it took to take care of you and maintain you, anyways. They just wanted you for their own personal, selfish uses instead of for the greater good of Hydra. That was how handlers and commanders were supposed to use you, for the greater good of Hydra since you belong to Hydra. But, unfortunately, not everyone in Hydra had those ideals."

A shiver went down Bucky's spine. He didn't realize that he was that valuable and that there was a power struggle even in Hydra over him. Brock continued, "The programming as handler lasted a lifetime, as long as the handler is alive. I can't explain it. There's literally a connection between a handler and you, a _**bond**_ of sorts that neither you nor him can deny. You and he can feel it, so he knows if your in danger, if your beginning to remember, he can feel it. He'll try to reason with you, but if you won't cooperate, he'll use other means and a mind wipe. He knows when your starting to get emotions back.

"At the same time, your connection to him forces you to more than obey him and protect him, like you would a commander. I can't explain it, but you'll just have to accept my word that there is a bond there. You know when your handler is dead because your unbreakable bond with him is gone and his influence over you, his commands are over. Even your bond to your commander is gone because it's through the handler. The commander has to reinstate the commands and protocals to get control over you again."

Now Bucky was seeing the helecarrier though new eyes, and as he searched his memories, he indeed found a remembered unusual connection to Pierce that had made it almost impossible to listen to Steve. He'd held back some, but he didn't know why then. It was because he knew Steve. But even then, that hadn't been enough to break the programming.

It wasn't until he knew Pierce had died because he'd literally felt what might be described as his lifeline tied to the man cut, that Pierce's influence and commands left him even though the programming had remained in tact. Then it was possible to listen to Steve, because he had no handler. In the end, Steve was very, very lucky.

"At the same time," Brock continued. "A handler can detach you and negate a commander's control or influence over you, because of the programming. When that happens, not even the former commander can reinstate it with the program words and protocal. It rarely happens, but it has, a couple of times, actually. Your ability to obey that commander is cut, and it takes the handler reinstating him as your commander in your programming for you to have that person as an authority figure again.

"Like I said, handlers pick commanders very carefully, and it's only happened twice when a handler's authority over you has been negated. The first was in 1967, and your handler then was displeased with the conduct of his commander over you. He felt that he was slacking in his duty over you, and wasn't pleased that you weren't getting things accomplished because of his authority over you. So he negated the command and used you to kill him, to make an example of what happened to those who slacked in their duties, especially if they were commanders over you. The second time was when you ran away in the 1990s after a mission. Pierce was mad with Mitchel, even though he'd always been a good commander over you, up until that point, anyways. So he negated the command. But they patched things up like the good old friends they were, and Pierce eventually realized that it wasn't Mitchel's fault for that incident. He had him reinstated as your commander two years later."

Bucky never remembered that about Mitchel, let alone that he had gone AWAL from Hydra for a while. It was news to him. But he rolled his eyes at Brock anyways. "And what does this have to do with anything?" Bucky challenged.

Brock narrowed his eyes in anger, almost like it was directed at Bucky. "You'll see. But your not going to remember any of it." Bucky gulped, fear in his eyes at his soon to be fate. "Its time you learned your place, Asset."

 **Okay, so only one person has reviewed. I would like to thank Illogical1 for reviewing and for the advice given.**

 **But if anyone else is reading this, I have to ask you to review. I could use some feedback. Do you like the story? Hate the story? Is that why no one is reviewing, because they hate it? It would be nice to know because if people don't like it I'd rather know so that I can take it down and not waste my time with it, maybe write something else.**

 **On another note, I ran out of room again. The rest of this chapter is at the beginning of the next chapter. I hate that I can only write a little over 10,000 words.**

 **Oh well.**


	3. Chapter 3: Pursuit

**I don't own Captain America.**

Chapter 3: Pursuit

Brock narrowed his eyes in anger, almost like it was directed at Bucky. "You'll see. But your not going to remember any of it." Bucky gulped, fear in his eyes at his soon to be fate. "Its time you learned your place, Asset."

"But I still don't understand what this has to do with anything, even me," Bucky mildly pled.

Brock winced. "I was getting to that. I was giving you a background first." Upon seeing Bucky's raised eyebrow and impatience, he continued. "You see, the rule Hydra has is that there always has to be a second person that knows the command to make you their handler at a time, and no one else is supposed to know. Its so that you always have a handler, which has a large amount of control over you and can reign you, a dangerous weapon, in. And its because of the fight for control over you, to use you.

"But the words will only make one handler at a time, even if two know. So whoever gets to you first and uses the command and protocols on you becomes your handler for life. The words will only work to make the other person your handler once your first handler is dead, aka the connection is broken. Typically, the handler will pass on the protocals and programming words to another person of close confidence in Hydra who inherits you upon the previous handler's death.

"But this wasn't always the case. Not all did that. There was a loophole that some used. You see, the rule was there that way someone always inherited you so you'd always be controlled. And while two people had to have the word, there was no rule that two people had to know it at the same time. So Pierce did what one other person had done and wrote the programming and instructions on a piece of paper which was then placed in vault secured by DNA coding.

"A key was in another vault telling you where to find this vault, his will stating where it existed, stating who was to inherit you. The new handler was then required to memorize the program words and protocals and burn the information to ashes afterwords, that way no one would get it. He was then to make himself your handler. He was then to ensure an heir of sorts immediately in one of the two previous mentioned ways. Unfortunately, Pierce had never stated who his heir was, or rather who was to inherit you. It was left unclear. We only knew that it was in his will."

Bucky had bristled when Rumlow had talked about inheriting him as property. He didn't like being reminded that he was a slave again. "Let me guess," Bucky sneered. "You thought you were the 'heir'?"

Brock grimaced and Bucky knew he was spot on. "Pierce had everyone's DNA, so intellectually, I knew it could have been anyone. I just always assumed because he made me second in command and trusted me so much that he made me your commander. But as it turns out, someone else had inherited you."

"And now what?" Bucky asked.

Rumlow glared, "Now we walk."

"The programming is breaking. You can't hold me and control me completely," Bucky voiced his only hope. "Even the doctors said."

"Perhaps," Rumlow stepped forward, picking up his rifle. "But enough of the programming remains for me to control you."

"You still never stated what you made me do," Bucky tried to delay. He would do anything to keep from going back to Hydra.

Brock rolled his eyes. "You sure you want to know?" he asked, a wide smirk on his face. Bucky was hesitant, but he nodded. Rumlow barked a laugh, amusement for his Asset in his eyes. "What do you think I did? We were both in danger. You're my dog, so I sicked you on them."

Bucky shivered at this. "I'm not your dog," he retorted.

" _ **Asset**_ ," Rumlow grinned.

Bucky bristled. "I'm not your Asset!"

Rumlow shrugged. "It doesn't change anything. Now _**move**_."

A sneer was on Bucky, as well as defiance. "No."

Rumlow huffed, looking directly at him. "Winter went, Winter came."

Bucky couldn't even begin to describe the hazy feeling that filled him next. As always, he forgot the command words immediately, like he was programmed to. This time though, he seemed to snap out of it and he glared angrily at the commander.

After giving him a once over look, Rumlow turned on his heel and marched out into the east, not even bothering to look back at Bucky. Feeling frustrated but rebellious, Bucky charged in the opposite direction, refusing to go with Rumlow.

As fast as he could, Bucky raced through the forest. He was gleeful to be free of his programmed commander when all of a sudden he charged into a clearing, and there was Rumlow walking in the direction he was coming. Rumlow laughed a little upon seeing him, an amused expression on his face.

Clenching his fists which were restrained behind him, Bucky charged in the opposite direction. After running for about ten minutes, though, he ran through a patch of bushes only to find Rumlow in front of him, walking away from him.

This continued for some time, Bucky running away only to come across Rumlow, and after the third hour of doing this, seeing Rumlow a couple yards to his left after emerging from the trees, Rumlow called out to him, "Give up yet?"

"No!" Bucky snapped, angered and unsure why this was happening.

Brock laughed more, shaking his head at his slave's antics. "Keep it up, Asset. You're not going to get different results. In the end you'll always come back to me."

"Never!" Bucky hissed and ran off again, only to come upon Rumlow ten minutes later. And Rumlow looked amused.

"Don't you want to know what's happening to you, what I've done to you?" the commander mocked him.

Anger flashed in Bucky's eyes, but he had to know if he was going to escape. "Fine!" Bucky snapped. "What did you do to me?"

Brock laughed again, glee almost upon seeing Bucky's fury. "You weren't wanting to cooperate, so I decided to use one of the command codes on you. It's a command that ensures that you can't go more than a mile away from me. .9 miles if you want to be more specific. You see subconsciously your tracking me, whether or not you realize it, so your always running into me."

Rumlow chuckled more. "It was a great way to control you and Mitchel would always use it when you were being obstinate on a mission. Or rather he programmed you to stick to me since it was me and my team you would go on missions with. It was another reason you had a strike team. Oh well, the command works either way. I could easily designate you to follow someone else, but I chose myself in this case since there wasn't anyone else I could stick you to!" Rumlow chuckled again.

Horror shown in Bucky's eyes at this. It was impossible for him to harm Rumlow, and it was impossible for him to escape from Rumlow. Rumlow continued walking, and Bucky felt an uncontrollable urge to follow the man. He was unable to resist it, no matter how hard he tried, so he wound up walking after his commander.

"Yes, but the programming won't hold me forever," Bucky voiced his hope.

Another bark of a laugh escaped Rumlow. "This one will," Rumlow replied, and he seemed pretty certain.

Bucky snorted in derision. "How do you know?"

Rumlow smirked. "Because this programming is stronger than the others. It had to be to control you."

Grumbling, Bucky caught up easily to Rumlow. "Well if your so certain that you can control me with this programming, why don't you take these cuffs off of my hands?"

Rumlow glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Do you really think I'm stupid?" Brock retorted in disdain. "Besides, it's an excellent punishment and a way to keep you in line."

Bucky winced at the word punishment. He had had plenty of those. His mind still froze with fear at the mention of mind wipes.

"Still," Bucky challenged. "For someone who's claiming the programming can control me enough, you only seem fearful."

With a bark of a laugh, Rumlow shook his head. "In your dreams, Asset."

Bucky grumbled as he was forced to walk on.

(Sam Point of View.)

Sam had to admit that the phone call at 12 am was completely unexpected. Moreover, it was difficult to handle a hysterical Steve on the other end. Getting information out of the man had been hard, especially since Steve was talking so fast that his tired brain couldn't keep up.

Sam was wearing nice bronze pajama pants with a white t-shirt to bed. His short cropped hair was in somewhat of a disarray, though not nearly as much as if he had had longer hair. Yawning, holding his cell phone to his ear as he lay in bed, propped up against his plump pillow, Sam attempted in a soothing tone, "Steve, calm down." When Steve had done so, he started again, "Now why don't you explain things slower to me?"

"I said, Bucky is missing!" Steve shouted back, still in complete hysteria. "Clint, I thought I could trust him! But he went and took Bucky on a mission without even my permission!"

Sam was admittedly surprised. It was unlike Clint to do such a thing, especially since the man knew how much Bucky meant to Steve. "You... sure?" Sam asked, not sure that this had really happened.

"Yes," Steve snapped. "Of course I'm sure! For one, Bucky is missing! For another, Clint admitted to it!"

Scratching his head in confusion, Sam replied gently, missing the smell of his daily morning wake up drink his beloved orange juice, "Okay, man. I just wasn't sure seeing as Clint is normally so responsible."

"Well, apparently we were wrong!" Steve snapped again, and Sam could tell that calming Cap down would be impossible at this point. When Steve had his mind focused on something, he had a one track mind. And Steve was very closed minded where Bucky, especially Bucky's safety was concerned.

"All right! All right!" Sam conceded. "So Clint took Bucky away-"

" _ **Kidnapped**_ Bucky," Steve corrected Sam harshly, his bad mood irritating Sam. But Sam did his best to be the calm one.

" _ **Kidnapped**_ Bucky," Sam consented to the correction, just to appease Steve and in order to get to the point. "Now what!"

"Well what do you think?" was Steve's outraged reaction. "We go after him, of course!"

Sam sighed and looked at his clock. It was 12:30. "Okay," Sam groaned, pulling himself lazily out of bed, stretching his spine. "I'll be there," he promsied with a yawn.

There was hesitation on the other end. "Thanks, Sam," and Sam could hear the relief on the other end. It was very palpable.

Sam yawned more as Steve relayed the directions, the they both bid each other good bye, hanging up.

Overall, Sam was very confused as it wasn't Clint's normal behavior. Regardless, Sam could tell that Steve was very mad about the incident, so he went to get dressed so that he wouldn't keep Steve waiting. He didn't blame Steve. If he were in Steve's position and it was a brainwashed Riley, he would also be reacting the same way.

Brushing his teeth, Sam contemplated what Steve had told him. He wasn't looking forward to going after Hydra again. But if that was what it took to get Bucky back, then he was more than willing.

(Steve Point of View)

Steve tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for Sam to arrive. As it wasn't official Avengers business, and because he wanted to have stealth and be able to blend in with a crowd, he was wearing a red polo shirt and a leather jacket. His hands were in his jeans, dirty from leaning against the red brick of the building, sneakers pristine clean.

Romanoff sighed at Steve's impatient behavior. He had been panicked when he had called her, asking her for help in locating Bucky and bringing him home. "Steve," she gently called out. "He'll get he soon."

"Not soon enough," Steve grumbled. "I'm going to rip Clint apart when I find him!"

Natasha sighed. "I don't think you're seeing the whole picture, Steve."

Steve rounded on her in outrage. "And what makes you say that?" he snapped.

Natasha gently placed a finger to her lips, softly husing him. Glancing briefly at the roof where she had parked the quinjet, Steve sighed and got the message. They didn't want to give away their location. "He's coming here as fast as he can," Natasha reassured him, staying calm. "You should know that this normally isn't like Clint. He's usually responsible and reliable."

"He went behind my back," Steve growled, and Natasha sighed sadly. " I know," was her quiet reply.

Finally, a jet black sports car pulled up, and Sam stepped out after hastilly parking it. He jogged across the street to Steve, and Natasha and Steve peeled themselves off of the buildings.

"Sorry I took so long," Sam panted, having a brief look with Natasha. As if answering something unspoken, she shook her head. Steve decided to ignore it.

Sam was dressed casually as well, black jacket, jeans, and a blue botton up shirt.

Natasha let out a tense smile. "Let's go!"

Bounding up the stairs, all three moved at a swift pace to the helecarrier, off to rescue Bucky. As they went inside and strapped themselves in, Sam choosing to take the copilot's chair, Steve saw them both cast a glance at each other before giving him a careful look. Steve cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows.

Sighing, Natasha started the quinjet and they took off. As they flew, stealth mode on, the plane invisible, Natasha said, "You should be prepared for the fact that we might not find Bucky in the best state."

A frown quickly adorned Steve's features. "I'll take care of Bucky, no matter what state he's in."

"Just wanted you to know," Natasha murmured softly, but Steve heard.

An awkward silence ensued. No one spoke for a while. Finally, Sam asked, "What do we know of the situation?"

"We know that _**Clint**_ kidnapped Bucky," Steve ground out.

Natasha sighed. "Don't judge him too harshly. There's more going on than we know."

"Clint used Bucky for his own personal benefit!" Steve snapped back. At that point, Natasha dropped it. There was no way she was going to get through to Steve right now.

As they flew on, Steve looked out the windshield, worry in his eyes. What little he did know about brainwashing, Steve knew that Bucky was more susceptible because he had been brainwashed before. "Hang in there, Bucky," he murmured softly, as if Bucky could hear him. The others ignored him, letting him mourn.

Finally, after several hours, Natasha said, "We're nearing our destination."

Steve prepared for the worst.

(Bucky Point of View)

Despite the effort Bucky put into resisting the programming, he was unsuccessful. In fact, the programming continued to grow stronger and stronger with him. As more time passed, the more he was pulled to Rumlow, and though Bucky didn't realise it or know it, the more the programmed behavior emerged.

Bucky had an uncontrollable urge to protect Brock from harm, and it was pure instinct almost. He didn't understand it, let alone that this was a programmed behavior, but he didn't mind it, despite hating Rumlow. It seemed perfectly fine to him. In fact, Bucky thought it was his duty. He assumed he felt this way because they both were in danger. He told himself that it was because they both had to work together to get out of there. It was ingraned in his subconscious.

At one point, Brock turned to him and smirked, having noticed the change in his Asset's demeaner that Bucky hadn't noticed. "The programming's getting stronger, isn't it?" he smirked, and Bucky gave him a puzzled look as he hadn't known or noticed. To him, nothing had changed and his behavior was still the same.

But other problems also began emerging. Bucky noticed his body starting to shake and nausea began plaguing him. It came to a point as they were walking, that it was almost unbearable.

His vision began fading, and as it did he found himself stumbling more and more. Weakness entered his body and the air smelled funky, not normal.

Finally, Bucky's body couldn't stand it anymore, and he collapsed onto the ground. Throwing up right where he lay, Bucky moaned, unsure why this was happening. With his hands behind his back it made it more difficult to maneuver his body into a more comfortable position. Whether he liked it or not, he was at his commander's mercy.

Bucky heard Brock kneel beside him and suddenly there was a prick in his good arm. Bucky groaned as his symptoms began clearing up, and he was finally able to sit up.

Brock had a frown on his face, watching his Asset carefully. To Bucky's surprise, there was some genuine concern in his eyes. But what concerned him even more was the needle that was still intertwined in Brock's fingers, a rifle also in Rumlow's hands, other weapons strapped to the former strike team leader.

Bucky coughed a little, sitting up slightly as he rested. "What did you do to me?" he demanded to know, not sure that he wanted to. But the funny smells were going away.

Sighing, Brock answered, "We were drugging you on the way over to control you and to get you back on the medicine you were on before. Unfortunately, when the convoy crashed, most of all the bottles with the medicine were shattered." Bucky gazed at him in confusion, his thoughts still muddled some. Shaking his head, Brock further explained in exasperation, "You're going through withdrawl."

"And yet you still give me more medicine?" Bucky sneered.

Rumlow winced. "I have to in order to avoid a major withdrawl that would make you even more sick. You probably went through that when you left Hydra after project Insight?" Bucky shivered as he remembered the unpleasant experience, thus confirming it to Rumlow. A smirk lit Rumlow's face. "That's what I thought. You definitely showed signs that you experienced that as well when you went AWAL from Hydra in the 90's."

"Doesn't make a difference if you're putting me on more medicine," Bucky griped.

Brock huffed. "I'm doing this for you're benefit, you know, to make the withdrawl gentler. Like I said, there wasn't enough of each medicine after the crash to even keep you on it. There's not even enough of each medicine to wean you off it in the safest manner. Eventually, you're going cold turkey. But if I can at least wean you off it some with the medicine I have on hand, the it won't be nearly as bad as it could be."

"This is your fault, you know!" Bucky blamed him, inflamed that he was going to go through a bad experience yet again because of what these people had done to him.

"It can't be helped," Rumlow sympathetically replied in a soft tone, no remorse in his eyes.

"It could have been!" Bucky argued. "You didn't have to buy me, kidnap me, and drug me!"

"Well, when you put it like that," Rumlow huffed, impatience once again in his eyes, the sympathy gone.

"You ruined my life!" Bucky shouted at him, shaking in anger and grief as his traumatic past caught up with him. He hated Hydra and it left scars on him both physically and emotionally, including scars of anger. "You made me betray my country, Rumlow! You're a traitor!"

Brock's eye's hardened. "Everything I did was to help my country and help the world!" Rumlow ground out, his eyes flashing in fury as he rounded on Bucky. But as he saw the emotional turmoil in Bucky's eyes, he couldn't help but to have a bit of sympathy in his expression.

Tears formed in Bucky's eyes, despite trying to hide it and keep it back. "Why?" he finally asked in a whisper, the one question he'd been trying to figure out for some time, the one question that had escaped his mind and yet been nagging at him, tearing at him. It was the one question no one could answer, no one but Hydra, that is. And it was something that though his therapists had been trying to help him on, had been trying to help him come to grips on, he couldn't quite come to terms with it. He'd never gotten the closure he needed.

Brock remained silent. It was almost like he didn't know how to answer. And as Bucky searched his eyes, trying to find something, _**anything**_ to explain the nightmare he'd endured, he found nothing. Bucky looked away, disappointed.

Sighing, Rumlow stood up and dusted his knees off. He put the needle inside his suit somewhere, probably a pocket. "I can't answer you," his gruff tone came, and Bucky angrily avoided his gaze, his lips in a pout that he didn't get what he wanted.

"Up," Rumlow commanded, and Bucky found himself complying, despite the fact that he didn't really want to. "I want to cover some ground and get some distance between us and them." He jerked his head in the direction they'd come from. "Also, no doubt we're going to have to break some time and give you another injection.

Bucky shivered at the mention of more medication, but he kept walking after Rumlow.

As the duo traversed the terrain, Bucky nervously glancing behind him as his ears picked up noise that no normal person could hear, Rumlow gave him a look. "They're not that far behind, are they?" he asked. Bucky shook his head. Rumlow picked up the pace which was easy for Bucky to match.

But the more they moved, the more Bucky saw Brock's labored breathing, and he was concerned. He was not about to leave the strike commander's side. "Your bullet wounds?" Bucky asked.

Brock glanced at him. "Not all of us heal fast, you know. I treated both our wounds after you were done killing them, but ultimately, your wounds heal faster than mine, especially without the bullets in them. No doubt they're healed all ready?" Bucky nodded. "Well I had no choice but to pack my wounds."

"Let me tend to them," Bucky genuinely offered, concern in his gaze.

Brock gave him a distrustful gaze. "If you can hear them that means we're not far behind. No, we keep moving."

However submissive Bucky was becoming to Rumlow almost to the point of allowing himself to be led, he shook his head and offered again, "At this point, it will be hard to keep distance between us any way. We may stand a better chance by hiding, and that way I can tend to your wounds."

As Brock gave him a serious stare, realization seemed to dawn on him, confusing Bucky as he noticed Brock's expression. What Bucky didn't realize but what Brock knew was that this was an aspect of his programmed behavior to Rumlow. Bucky couldn't hurt him at this point, especially with how strong the programming was becomming.

As an eased expression came on Rumlow, Bucky couldn't help but feel nervous, not understanding the meaning of his expression. But he never gave thought to his offer, let alone why he had even offered it to begin with. He had no idea that his subconscience was being controlled by the programming.

Crossbones nodded, a pleased expression on his face. If only Bucky knew it was because Brock knew that as the strength of the programming increased, it was only a matter of time before Bucky completely allowed himself to be led without resistance. Although, even then, Mitchell did have occassional trouble with Bucky that forced him to use the programming to force Bucky to stick to a certain person. That was rare, though. Once Bucky completely submitted to him, it would be even easier to use him, comtrol him, and get him to Hydra. A commander's programming was strong indeed.

A handler still had ultimate control, though. The Asset could never defy his handler and would constantly submit to him. He would always allow himself to be led by his handler without any problems, whether or not he liked it, and that was because of the bond.

Rumlow sighed. "There's no place now to stop. We'll have to go on for a bit until we find some place to hide."

Bucky considered with a nod. His eyes then became unfocused and confused as a memory of a shallow hidden cave in a cliff crossed his mind. "I've... been here before?" he voiced out loud, looking to Rumlow for confirmation.

Rumlow merely shrugged, his gaze uncertain. A frustrated sound escaped Bucky, anger in his gaze. But he managed to temper it for now. "I think there's a cave a half a day's journey from here, if we pick up the pace," Bucky announced. "Its hidden, and they shouldn't be able to find us."

Reluctance was in Crossbones' expression as he considered. Finally, he aquiesced, "Lead the way." Unknowing why, Bucky turned them to the north and Rumlow groaned as he followed. "Which means we'll have to backtrack, of course," his grumbling came to Bucky's ears, and Bucky couldn't help the small smile that twitched on his face. That meant there was more time for Steve to find him and more time until he met his doom at Hydra.

Surely it was plenty of time to try something? He may not be able to leave Rumlow or harm him, but surely there was another way out of this? If only he could think of it. And, knowing Rumlow, after treating his wounds, with luck the guy might be knocked out enough to where either Bucky could try to break his programming, or he could try to plan a way out of this situation.

As Brock walked behind him, Bucky turned around briefly. "You wouldn't by chance care to loosen these bonds, would you?"

Narrowing his eyes, Brock jabbed his gun into Bucky. But Bucky's wounds were already healed, so it didn't hurt at all.

"Keep moving," Rumlow demanded harshly, and Bucky sighed in disappointment. It was worth a try. "And don't think of trying anything like that again," Rumlow warned. Immediately, Bucky nodded, and he knew that he wouldn't as he submitted to Rumlow. "I'll take the handcuffs off when _**I**_ see fit, Asset. Until then, don't ask again. And don't forget that your not free. You're a slave here, Hydra's slave."

As upset and angry as he was, Bucky submitted, having no choice.

They continued walking for a bit, and Bucky continued to hear the rustle, rustle off to the side and behind them this time. As curiosity and concern coursed through him, Bucky broke silence. "Do you know who they are?" Bucky asked Rumlow. But the man glared at him for asking the question.

"They're after you," Rumlow gruffly replied, and Bucky huffed in impatience.

"I know that, you already told me," Bucky retorted. "But I mean, what organization are they with? You said that a lot of people tried to buy me?"

Sticking his rifle into Bucky's back again, Rumlow commanded, "Enough!" Bucky immediately stopped, due to the programming. But he couldn't help casting Rumlow a vulnerable, pleading look.

They stopped walking, and Rumlow considered him for a bit, sudden compassion on his face. "Why do you need to know?" Rumlow demanded, his demeanor careful.

Finally being given permission to speak and having no choice but to answer his commader due to the programming working on his subconscious, Bucky answered without knowing his obedience, "They keep pressing us hard in pursuit. No one else, despite loosing the bid, appears to be coming after me. It's just these people. Something else is going on here."

As Brock put a hand to his chin in contemplation, acknowledging what his Asset said, he finally replied, "Admittedly, I don't know. But I suspect that they must have had some beef with Hydra in the past due to what you've said." And Bucky was suprised at the openness and honesty of his commander's response.

"Is there any way for you to find out?" Bucky inquired, though he didn't know if he wanted the strike team leader to be in contact with Hydra now that he had him. But it would help to know, once Bucky figured out how to escape, that is. In fact, it might be detrimental to him not to know.

Brock laughed a little. "Don't you think that I would have contacted Hydra to pick us up now if I could? As it is, communications at the van was jammed before the equipment got destroyed as you were battling our enemies. Otherwise, I would have arranged a little ride for us."

Bucky shivered at that statement and Brock laughed some at seeing his Asset's discomfort.

"Well, your stuck to!" Bucky snapped, angry at Rumlow for doing this to him. "Don't forget, you were a burnt barbeque and if it wasn't for me you'd have been a shiskabob."

Rumlow clenched his fists, his jaws tightening. But as much as Bucky knew what irked Rumlow and caused him to tick, Rumlow also knew what irked him and made him tick. "Well if I'm a shishkabob and a burnt barbeque, what are you? A cold, mindless popsicle."

Bucky choked as painful memories flashed through him. Closing his eyes and trying to calm his breathing from the stress of the situation that he was under, Bucky took a deep breath in and let it out.

"That's right, Asset," he heard his commander sneer. "Try to cope all you want, but in the end it won't matter anyways. You're going back to Hydra, and then we're wiping your mind and giving you a new handler. Then you will be ours again, mind and body, our living weapon. Then you won't need to cope."

Shaking as Brock talked, Bucky couldn't help whimpering some. "Stop!" Bucky shouted, and if he were able to, he would have put a hand to his ears.

"Why?" Rumlow taunted him. "Can dish it out but can't take what you give out?"

Memories of screaming and terror from his ordered mind wipes flashed through him, and Bucky began loosing hold on reality. "Stop!" he begged, but it was too late. His mind was already in the past.

Bucky was still in his battle gear from his Hydra days. He was strapped down to a cold, hard, metal table, plastic bit in his mouth. He felt nauseous as the smell of rubbing alcohol and various plastics reached his nose. Looking around, he saw the bins they disposed of the needles of almost full from all the injections they had just given him.

He was cold and shivering, the feeling of ice next to his skin. But he was also shaking from the medicine they had just given him. Men and women in white lab coats were all around him, surrounding his table where he lay.

Various monitors that made beeping and buzzing sounds were all around him. Wires from these machines led to him, going under his combat shirt to where they were taped to him or adhered in some manner. He was so uncomfortable and he whimpered some. As he looked to his left, the smell of toxic chemicals wafted to him and he saw a table with scissors, blades, and surgical tools on it. If could pale, he would have.

His vision was unfocused and undizzy, and everything seemed white. He registered movement, and next thing he knew, a light was shined in his eyes.

"He's responding well to the medication," a firm, low, baritone voice drifted towards him, seeming from a distance even though it was from the man right next to him on his left. "Shall we test his pain tolerance then?"

"Give him a mind wipe first," instructed a familiar female voice that Bucky recognized vaguely but couldn't figure out how he knew her. "Then test his pain. The more pain he's in, the more prepared he will be for this mission."

More nausea hit him as he was wheeled away. All the colors of his enviroment blurred together, but when they wheeled him to the chamber and began strapping the gurney into the machine for the mind wipe, Bucky couldn't help but go balistic despite his weakness, screaming at the top of his lungs. The machine fired up and...

"Goodness! I said that I was sorry!" a voice from far away drifted to him along with distant ailing screams. Sensations returned to him and Bucky first became aware of the smell of wet grass and the tang of a sharp deodorant. Arms were wrapped around him, holding him from behind, restraining him, and another hand was held over his mouth, trying unsuccessfully to stop the noise he was making.

Bucky, unsure what was going on and why he wasn't in the room with the dreaded machine anymore, tried to struggle to fend off his attacker. A large scuffle ensued, resulting in a bunch of kicked up grass. He brought his head back against his attacker, but found for some reason his body froze even before he made contact with the man. Despite this, the man groaned, and in spite of Bucky's strength, the man held on. As Bucky tried to get up due to realizing that he wouldn't be able to harm him, the man wrapped his legs around him, trying to restrain him to the ground.

As Bucky tried to dislodge his attacker, they rolled around in the dirt. Screeching, Bucky wiggled and wiggled, and finally a voice was heard in his right ear, "Quiet, Asset, before you attract attention!"

Immediately, against his will, Bucky obeyed, but he didn't know why. He was facing the west where the sun would go down and large pine trees were seen in the distance, the smell of fresh sap wafting over to him.

It took a little but, but finally everything came back to him. He knew where he was, and he knew that it was Rumlow who was restraining him. Why the man hadn't used the command words on him to control him, he didn't know.

He lay there restrained for a bit. Finally, Rumlow demanded gruff in his tone, whispering in his right ear, "Are you done?"

Taking a deep breath, Bucky nodded, which was awkward since he was restrained and couldn't make much movement of the head. Sighing, Rumlow got off him, going to stand in front of Bucky, dusting himself off. "Up," the man commanded, and Bucky got up.

As Bucky glanced nervously at his commander, Bucky saw that Rumlow had some concern for him in his eyes. "Flashback?" Rumlow asked. Because he was commanded, Bucky nodded. "Sorry about that," Rumlow apologized again, awkward, and he ran his hand through his hair. A few feet away, his rifle lay.

Bucky nodded his acknowledgment, still nervous of the man, rolling his shoulders which was awkward since he was in handcuffs.

Rumlow was now limping, and he seemed to be in pain. "At least you'll be looking after my wounds soon," he grumbled as he picked the rifle up. When the man turned around, Bucky noticed a little blood leaking through his chest bullet wound. Rumlow glanced where Bucky was looking. "Can't be helped," the man sighed matter of factly. He was back to business again.

Remembering his earlier thoughts, Bucky tilted his head in surprise. "You didn't use the programming on me?" he inquired softly, submissively.

Realization dawned on Rumlow and he sighed. Bucky was surprised when he saw that. "I didn't think about it," Rumlow admitted. "When you started making all that racket, I admittedy panicked."

Bucky nodded, but in the distance, he heard footsteps and shouting. Now it was his turn to panic. Eyes wide with fear, he informed Rumlow, "They're headed towards us!"

"Then we'd better move," Crossbones commanded, his demeaner closed off again.

Rumlow let Bucky lead the way as they moved once again to the hidden caves that Bucky mentioned. Truth be told, Bucky's memories were still fuzzy, so he wasn't entirely sure they were going in the right direction. But as long as they were going the general direction, then that was all that Bucky cared for. They could work on the finer details later.

Sighing, his cuffs rubbing sore against him, he was grateful that the serum at least gave him better balance so that he didn't trip or fall on the rugged terrain. As Rumlow jabbed him, Bucky got the hint. "Pick up the pace," Rumlow grunted, and Bucky obeyed.

Shouts were heard from the trackers behind them and Bucky knew that they'd found the place where their scuffle had taken place. Thank goodness that Bucky was trained to cover their tracks, and he did so. But he also knew that Rumlow's injuries were making it hard to put some distwnce between the enemy and them. At least they had some distance to where their pursuers couldn't see them. Eventually, their pursuers, not sure where they went and seemingly unsure of the terrain, seemed to veer on a course away from them.

Bucky informed Rumlow of this. "I still want to head to those caves," Rumlow instructed. Then he reluctantly admitted, "You were right earlier. We need some time to rest and recuperate, especially me from my injuries. It won't do us any good to travel otherwise."

Bucky was happy when he heard this, but for different reasons. It would hopefully give him the perfect opportunity to come up with an escape plan and try to figure out how to break the programming. But he kept his expression carefully neutral and leaped with ease over a log that was in their way, despite his hands restrained behind his back. Rumlow, however, had a bit harder time, particularily because of his injuries. With this, Bucky realized that his injuries must be affecting him more than he was letting on.

As they made their way, Rumlow began panting with the effort. Bucky turned to him, walking backwards, his gaze questioning. "Keep moving," Rumlow panted, his breathing ragged. Bucky obeyed.

'This is going to take longer than I anticipated,' Bucky though in exasperation.

(Clint point of View)

Despite being told to stay put, Clint knew that if he was to stand a chance staying away from public eyes, (which would be preferable because of the nature of his mission) then he had to go somewhere else. He opted for going slightly south where he knew there was a little wooded area in the country so that he could wait out the storm and wait to be extracted.

Unfortunately, driving a limosine did not bode well when you went off road. Clint lost track of the amount of times the wheels of the vehicle got stuck in the mud and he had to dig the car out and push it out. He also lost trsck of the the amount of thimes he lost his temper and shouted to the sky in anger about his situation.

Finally considering himself far enough away from civilization not to be detected, he got his cell phone out and groaned. No signal. "I should have bought a satellite phone," Clint grumbled. He was exhausted, sweating, and nervous of his upcoming meeting, not to mention he'd gotten his friend kidnapped by a powerful organization that wanted to abuse him again. And he was sure to be chewed out by another friend who was guardian of said friend. Then there was the fact that his expensive clothes for the mission were ripped and torn apart and he probably had a concussion.

As Clint touched the back of his head slightly, he found that it was unfortunately bleeding somewhat still. That was a cause of concern, in and of itself, but at least it was only lightly bleeding. It could be worse and he's had worse on other missions. Being mind controlled and killing innocents was on the list of worse. He could only imagine how Bucky felt, having gone through it longer and having lost himself beforehand.

Getting out of the car, Clint leaned against the side of it. Thankfully, now that he was out of the car, he was able to get a signal. Granted, it was a very weak signal, but it was at least a signal.

Choosing Steve's number, he dialed it and waited as it rung. Steve picked up. "Hello?"

"Yeah, Steve, it's me."

"Oh," came Steve's upset, dull reply, instant anger and displeasure saturating his tone as he now knew who it was on the other end of the line.

Clint clenched his fit. If the Captain was still mad, then he may not let it go. Taking a deep breath, he coughed, and the announced, "Listen, I moved my car. I need to give you the new location."

"You moved your car?" Steve questioned, his tone showing even more ire.

"Yes," Clint ground out in exasperation, and at this point a smell of burning reached his nose, but he ignored it. "If I'd stayed in the place where I was at, it would have been comprimised. There have to be federal agents and police crawling around the place where my mission was. I was on the highway and I was in tattered evening wear. Someone was bound to notice. Unless you want this pinned on the Avengers, that is?"

A huff was heard on the other end followed by silence. The burning smell increased and a hiss started. Still ignoring it, he was surprised when red hot metal heated his backside. Yowling, he launched himself away, just in time to. A kaboom sounded in the air as Clint landed thankfully behind a log. Fire rose up behind him, and he was blinded by the fire despite looking away from it.

Debris flew into the air, and though he could hear nothing, things were raining down near him. Curling up and putting his hands over his head in order to protect himself, he hissed as bits of his flesh burned and at the sharp cuts of metal and plastic that pierced his skin. At least most of everything was pushed away from him by the blast, though.

His ears were still ringing from the explosion, and his cell phone was thankfully only a foot in front of him, still intact despite smoking a little. It smelled like ash and as he tried to pick it up, he dropped it quickly, having burned his hands, hissing.

He had to wait a couple of minutes for it to cool again. When it finally did, his ears had calmed down but they were still hurting and they bled, trickling down his shirt.

"Clint! Clint!" Steve was shouting frantically, panic and hysteria in his tone.

"I'm all right, Steve!" Clint announced, looking around nervously. "Thanks for asking, but I need to leave again. My position is compromised once more."

"Stop shouting!" Steve hurled back. Clint was stunned. Oh. He must have been talking loud becaude his hearing was now bad.

"Sorry," Clint tried to mutter through a lessoned tone.

"Still shouting," Steve informed him and Clint sighed, beginning to move away from the now shattered and scattered limosine. As he walked, Clint heard Steve (who was probably shouting so that he could hear), say to him, "Natasha has some directions for where she wants you to head. Based on your coordinates, there's a clearing six miles away from where your at. She wants you to head there because we'll be landing the quinjet there. Just make sure to stay out of sight from anybody. We don't want anyone knowing that Avengers were involved in this."

"Will do," Clint promised. "Oh, and Steve?"

"Yeah?" was the reply.

"I'm a spy. I know about staying out of sight and to stay out of sight."

"Right," Steve groaned, and he was mumbling words angrily that Clint couldn't hear. Something about Clint and Bucky's mission was mentioned though, that part he could hear. He also thought he heard Steve mumble something like, "If you knew that, why did you take my best friend who has an obvious metal arm and can't even disguise himself or act differently to a rich social function?"

Clint clenched his fists as he began running. "I'll meet you there," Clint promised. Then he hung up the phone.

(About an hour later)

Clint watched as the quinjet landed. Though it had come on invisible, it had uncloaked when it was at a low enough altitude as it touched down on the clearing. The clearing was beautiful, grass and flowers that were in full bloom, pine trees in the distance. The sweet aroma that it gave off seemed enough to mask the smell of ash and fire that still permeated the air around Clint. A gentle breeze strirred through Clint's hair as the quintet landed.

As he walked around to the entrance, the door pulled down from above revealing an angry Captain America in no armor, daily clothes adorning him. 'Uh oh!' Clint thought. This was the part he had not been ready for. He would never be ready for it, as far as he was concerned.

No one else stood in the entrance, and Clint could only guess that Steve had ordered everyone to wait inside as he dealt with this matter. His hands were on his hips, angry scowl on his face as he looked at Clint, and he seemed to consider Clint, looking him over judgementally, before stalking over to him.

Clint gulped. Steve stopped right in front of him. The air became more chilly and goose bumps rose on Clint's arms and legs, even going on his scalp. The crickets that had been chirping stopped, and things became eerily quiet.

Silence reigned for a bit longer, and finally Steve broke the silence. "Why would you think to take Bucky on a mission when he's not even mentally well enough to hold a job yet, and when the courts have **_strictly_** forbidden it?" He waved his hands in the air dramatically and Clint let him rant, watching Steve as he paced, anger in his gaze whenever he would glance at Clint.

"Why on earth would you talk Bucky into such a dangerous stunt when you _**know**_ how well Bucky is easily persuaded, and that he doesn't think straight, doesn't consider things? You knew he would say yes if you worded it just right! Why would you take advantage of him like that!? You're no better than Hydra which forced him to do those things!"

"I know," Clint whispered in forlorn, hanging his head in shame. But it was all true. "But I can't answer answer you or explain it to you."

Steve sighed, still angry, clearly not satisfied with his answer as he looked at him. But Clint couldn't answer him. He couldn't. And he had nothing to say.

Clint looked up and saw Steve put a hand to his chin, considering him again. Finally he sighed and motioned him on the quinjet. "There's no time to talk about this now. We've got to go after Bucky. But we will be talking about this later."

"I know," Clint admitted. But none the less he followed Steve inside. He wasn't very surprised to see Natasha there flying the quinjet as Steve would have needed her to take him here. She gave him a pitiful gaze from the pilot's seat, and he met her stare in hesitancy and shame.

But he was surprised as he entered and found Sam there. Then again he should have figured as Sam and Steve had become fairly close friends. Plus, Sam was Steve and Bucky's counselor, and if Bucky was in a bad state when they found him, it would be needful to have someone like Sam there to help contain the situation and to help Bucky through it.

Sam wasn't in his Falcon jet pack. Instead it was beside him. Clint sat on the other side of Sam as the door to the quinjet was closed and they prepared for take off. "You're not taking the copilot's seat?" Sam asked in surprise as it was common for Nat and him to fly the quinjets together when they were on missions with each other.

Instead, Clint shook his head. He wasn't really feeling up to it right now, and he knew Natasha understood.

As they gained altitude, Clint choosing to forgo a seatbelt for the take off, Steve surprisingly was breaking regulation too, up and about, pacing in agitation. Finally, once they had gained a steady altitude, he turned back to Clint. "You said that it Hydra activated his programming?" Clint nodded.

Steve sighed, frustratingly running his hand through his hair. "That must mean it was someone who had worked with Bucky before. There are a handful of people that we've been able to determine worked with him, and now we just have to narrow it down."

"No we don't," Clint announced. He'd forgotten to mention Crossbones to Steve. He was a bit afraid of how Steve would react upon hearing this. Taking a deep breath, he told them, "It was mainly Rumlow."

The air chilled further and Steve looked to Clint in horror. He was choking, and even Natasha had frozen.

"Brock Rumlow?" Steve whispered softly. It still hurt Steve to this day that the man he had come to trust in Shield had been in reality torturing and brainwashing his best friend for who knew how many hears. They were all affected by Rumlow's betrayal.

Clint nodded. "He at least had some of the programming words as I saw him use one. Then there was one more person, one of the doctors, that used a few on him. I never heard what the programming words were, though, as they were very careful to make sure I didn't hear. They whispered it to him. But immediately after they used the first one on him, he was different. In fact, he was quite complacent and pliable, able to be directed quite easily."

Steve was shaking in anger, but this time Clint could tell it was not at him. That much he was greatful for. "They're controlling him," he choked.

"Who knows what state we'll find him in," Nat grimly pitched in.

Everyone seemed to turn to Sam now since he'd had some psychiactric training. Sam sighed and rubbed his head as he announced, "Until we can actually be there and evaluate him, there's nothing that we can do or plan for. We have to address the situation as it presents itself. There'd be no use in giving advice that might not even apply."

"But will he even be in his right mind?" Steve inquired, concern lacing his tone, a grieved expression on his face.

Sam shrugged. "I can't say. We don't know how this programming and control affects his mind. But he's no doubt going to need some counseling after this."

Everyone turned to Natasha afterwords since she'd had experience in having her mind programmed. Despite being faced away from them as she was flying the quinjet, she knew they were addressing her. "He may not know that he's acting differently if his behavior is off. Sometimes behavior is programmed, and you don't realize the way your acting is because your programmed to. Everything seems normal to you, including your feelings if your feelings are programmed."

"Or he could be out of it if his programming is designed to bring out certain actions and behaviors in which case he'd wake up some time later and his mind will be blank of what happened when his programming was triggered. Depending on how aware he is afterwords and the way he was programmed to operate in that instance, he may not even realize that they activated his programming and that part of his time is missing, let alone that he blacked out. It all depends, but with me they used a combinations of those techiniques and more, and I imagine it was the same for him."

Clint knew what she was talking about and everyone became silent in worry.

"Well, now what?" Sam broke the silence, setting them back on track. "How do we search for him?"

Steve turned to Clint, wariness in his eyes. "When you left, did you see any indication as to where they had gone, what direction they were heading?"

Shaking his head, regret and shame filled Clint once more. "I don't even know if they took a quinjet. The thing was a mess." Everyone groaned. "But," Clint began. "I do know that after Hydra picked him up, others came for him as well. They must have been disgruntled because they couldn't buy him. They were the ones that tore the place apart. I wasn't able to find a direction that they headed as they left before I got out, but if we could trace a large group of vehicles moving together then it's probably them. They'd brought a lot of people with them, a lot more than they can hide."

"Okay," Steve agreed, cooperating for Bucky's sake. "We'll start there."

Natasha had a map and some statistics pulled up on the shield of the quinjet. "I think I found something," she announced and everyone crowded around her to see. "There were indeed reports from the police about an abnormally large movement of vehicles about four miles south of the dance hall. They were last seen moving east of there, probably to the border of the country it looks like. No record is made of them crossing the border, however. Thats the last they were seen."

Everyone took it in. "Okay, then!" Steve announced. "If they were headed there, then thats where we're headed."

"I'll keep you posted if I see anything that matches the decriptions given down below," Nat offered.

"Sounds good," Steve responded.

At this point, exhaustion was setting into Clint. He really, really neeeded his wounds tended, but he wanted to sleep for now. When Sam offered to do so, seeing that he was injured, Clint shook his head. "I'm going to take a nap," he announced. "Later."

"Okay..." Sam replied, reluctant.

Clint closed his eyes. He was out in a flash of light.

(Bucky Point of View)

It took a few hours for them to finally near their destination. Part of it was because Bucky's brain was muddled from the mind wipes and he couldn't remember things clearly. The other part of it was because Rumlow was still suffering from his injuries and it was hard for the man to keep up, let alone with someone who was super enhanced.

"Slow down," Rumlow commanded at some point, panting with effort, his chest heaving before he tripped on the forest floor. He groaned as he picked himself up, Bucky backtracking in order to cover their tracks.

What Bucky really wanted to tell him was, "You ordered us to move faster." But he was unable to because of the programming. But his mouth was kept quiet and he was forced into obedience, before he could even try to say it.

The scenery had changed sugnificantly, and tall trees surrounded him. The smell of pine sap reached him, and the air was cooling off as the day waxed on. Moss was on several large trees, and there were several dead, decaying trunks where not even leaves were left.

Bucky had now taken them to the east as he was fairly sure that that was where the caves were, hidden in some shallow cliffs that were overshadowed by the trees if he remembered. But getting his memories clear enough to where he could be certain was the issue. Several times he had stopped and doubled back, started going a different direction, only to stop and go back the same direction they had been going.

Even worse, Rumlow noticed the problem. "What are you doing?" Rumlow asked after he had done this the umpteenth time.

Bucky glanced back, having no choice but to answer because of his programming. It was instinct and he had an uncontrollable urge to answer. "I'm looking for the caves," he told Rumlow, and Rumlow crossed his arms, hands still clutched onto his rifle.

"We've been looking for the caves," was his upset response, his mood souring, Bucky could tell. His commander was tired and just wanted to get some rest. "Unless there are no caves, that is?"

"There are!" Bucky protested in outburst, upset that Rumlow would think such a thing about him. Its not like he could be dishonest with him! He felt a strange urge that he couldn't fight to be completely up front and honest with Rumlow, even though he didn't understand it and that it was the programming working on him. How could Rumlow not see that? "I know there are!"

Sighing in frustration, Rumlow shook his head. And Bucky could tell that the man believed him, having realized what Bucky didn't realize, that the programming was forcing him to be honest. "You don't remember where they are."

Bucky bristled, but he couldn't say anything because he knew it was true. "I remember the general vicinity..." Bucky provided instead.

A frustrated sound escaped Rumlow and he kicked at the nearest tree only to screech and hop in pain. Bucky snickered at this until Rumlow glared at him.

"Got something to say?" Crossbones sharply asked. Bucky shook his head, not wanting to start another fight, especially with people pursuing him.

"I'll find it," Bucky promised solemnly, and Rumlow was sneering at him, pale with some blood loss.

"How do you know you'll even find it?" Rumlow then taunted him, his mocking tone evident. "You can't even seem to find your own way in life, so how are you going to find a simple little cave that you can't even remember?"

And Bucky's eyes flashed in anger at the reminder. "It's not my fault!" he hissed at him, hands behind his back clenching. "If you hadn't helped with all those mind wipes then maybe my mind would be in a better position to remember!"

" ** _I didn't help with the mind wipes_**!" Rumlow bellowed in correction, Bucky flinching at his harsh tone. Silence reigned for a bit.

It was Bucky who finally broke the silence. "Well, you didn't stop them from doing it, either."

Rumlow looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "It was necessary," was his soft reply.

The air was uncomfortable after that. Finally, Rumlow sighed. "Let's go find those caves, shall we?"

Bucky nodded.

 **End of chapter three.**

 **The next chapter will hopefully feature Bucky having a heart to heart chat with Rumlow, including about his circumstances.**

 **Please read and review.**

 **Until next time.**


	4. Chapter 4: Tracking

**I'd like to thank all my reviewers for reviewing. Thanks!**

 **I don't own Captain America.**

Chapter Four: Tracking

(Bucky Point of View)

Rumlow and Bucky continued trecking as far as they could, the altitude rising steadily. At this point, Rumlow was wheezing, and Bucky looked back, not sure if he should continue. "Keep going," Rumlow instructed, motioning him on with a flick of his hand, leaning on his gun somewhat.

The climb was steep enough that a mound of earth was in front of Bucky's eye level. 'We're bound to leave tracks,' Bucky thought. If this kept on getting steeper, he wouldn't be able to climb without the handcuffs coming off and it would be dangerous.

Bucky continued going, as he was commanded to. But he tripped as the elevation proved awkward, and he looked back nervously, pleadingly.

"Fine!" Rumlow snapped and with a sigh, he pulled a magnetic long stick out of his vest. Bucky watched the best he could as Rumlow pressed it deep into a hole in the cuffs, and with a click, they snapped open.

It was a relief for Bucky to be out of the cuffs. He watched as Rumlow put the key back into his vest, picking up the rifle and cuffs again. Bucky rubbed his wrists and hands which were raw and sore. As he did this, Rumlow raised an eyebrow. "Can't take a little pain?" Rumlow taunted.

Bucky frowned. "Your injuries are affecting you," he informed his commander. Having read a little bit about emergency medicine, he quoted, "Irritability is a sign of-"

"Yes, I know!" Rumlow snapped, cutting him off. "My wounds need to be treated. Now move!" With that, he jabbed the gun into Bucky again and with a sigh they began climbing the steep incline.

Bucky looked back as he climbed, a little concerned about Rumlow. But he started climbing again and pretty soon they were near the top. Unfortunately, Bucky was also starting to feel a little dizzy. "We're almost there," he gasped as vague memories began returning, the symptoms getting worst. And with that, he collapsed onto the soil.

Groaning, the pain he was in increased and his vision blurred. But he could hear his commander's voice. "Just a little farther," Rumlow encouraged softly from a distance, surprisingly gentle. "We can't stop here. We're vulnerable here."

Despite his ailment, Bucky recognized the order and got up, struggling as he did so. His hazy vision could see outlines, and he stumbled along his imagined path.

Finally, they came to a path that was completely hidden by nature. Bucky was going by broken memory at this point. He stumbled into the wall of a cliff covered in thick moss, Rumlow right behind him, feeling for the invisible cave.

Strange smells assauted him. The woodland smells were there, but stank smells were also there, and he thought he heard a pidgeon cooing.

Rumlow came up beside him and began pressing around also, and with a shriek he fell into a massive hole on the inside of a dark, musty smelling cave. Or maybe that smell was made up in Bucky's brain. He couldn't tell because he was smelling strange things that couldn't exist and had no name.

Grasping the cliff, he meandered over to where Rumlow was at, and when no wall was present to support him, he collapsed in. Moaning slightly, he felt the scrapes of rock and stone beneath him, cutting his palms. Warm blood seeped out, but he knew it was healing already.

Even worse, he felt like he needed to vomit. It took everything to turn himself over, and he felt vulnerable.

Sighing, Rumlow trudged over and there was a prick in his arm. But this time the symptoms didn't clear up right away. They persisted some. "Sorry, but this is all I could give you. There needs to be some for the next dose. You're going to go cold turkey for a little bit."

The only thing Bucky could do was groan, closing his eyes. There was a scrape of ground next to him and he knew that Rumlow was beside him, watching him.

Searing agony struck Bucky next, and he cried out. Rumlow was quick to clamp a hand over his mouth, and Bucky whimpered, unsure how long this was going to last for. The last time was more intense than this, so he barely remembered, his mind having blocked most of it from his memory.

"It hurts!" Bucky sobbed into Rumlow's hand and there was a soft sigh.

"I know," Rumlow softly replied, and if Bucky was more aware, he would have seen Rumlow's sad gaze as he watched over his Asset. But he was aware enough to feel Rumlow brush some of the strands of his hair out of his eyes, his other hand still clamped down over his mouth.

Tears poored down Bucky's face as the pain continued. His sobs continued and he cried a little louder. "Shh!" Rumlow gently hushed, but apprehension and wariness was in the man's eyes as he looked around as if expecting others to show up.

But Bucky could only comprehend the agony he was under as he began writhing on the ground, arching his back, hoping it would end.

A fit of screams and sobbings ensued and all Bucky could comprehend for a moment was the pain. For how long it lasted, he didn't know, but it was a while. He was vaguely aware of Rumlow's far away voice talking to him in soft, gentle tones, almost soothingly, but then Bucky heard no more as the pain continued.

There came a point when he couldn't scream anymore and he lay, still in tremendous pain, unable to do anything. He couldn't even twitch anymore, that was how much pain he was in.

Finally, the pain ebbed, and he was able to fall asleep for a bit. So he closed his eyes, letting Rumlow watch over him, and his consciousness was overtaken by his drowsiness.

It was several hours later, he was sure, when he was able to wake up. The smell of smoke reached his ears and he heard the crackling of the fire.

The ground beneath his palms was coarse and hard, despite his previous scrapes having healed. Opening his eyes, he saw the dark ceiling of the cave, the stank of the moss above him wafting over. Turning his head to the left he saw Rumlow tending the fire, rifle on his left side away from Bucky, sitting down with knees up to his chest. The long stick in his hand he used to poke and prod the fire.

As if sensing that Bucky was awake, he glanced in his Asset's direction. "How do you feel?"" he asked Bucky in a calm tone, meeting Bucky's gaze. But, to Bucky's surprise, there was some concern and compassion in his eyes.

Bucky took some time to consider the question. How did he feel? Physically, he was exhausted and he still had to tend Rumlow's wounds. He was tired and sore beyond description, but at least he wasn't in the searing agony anymore. He didn't feel as if he had a restful sleep, and he was fairly sure that he couldn't walk more than a mile in his condition.

Emotionally, was a different answer, though. He felt a strange calm despite the stress he was under and he could feel the turmoil of his emotions beneath the calm as if it were physical, as if it were a wave threatening to break loose. He was angry with Rumlow for putting him in this position, and he was confused as to why he had to go through this. Was twice a caprive of Hydra not enough? Though three if you counted that he went AWAL for a bit.

He was also hurt by this, sad and mournful. He didn't understand it, why anyone would do this to others. Why could they watch someone suffer and not do anything about it? Though to be fair, Bucky argued with himself that Rumlow did his best to help him with what he had for the withdrawl. Still, the man was only doing it to bring him to Hydra, so in the end there was hurt for him. And Rumlow had never stopped them from doing the mind wipes. He had even threatened to wipe his mind himself.

Despite that, he felt a strange gratitude towards Rumlow for taking care of him when he was vulnerable, and he knew he could not harm the man and that he needed to help him. This conflict of emotions confused him. He didn't know where he stood.

After considering the question, Bucky answered, "I don't know. Physically, I still need rest. Otherwise..." and he trailed off.

Rumlow frowned at his response, closing himself off again. "Can't help with the last part," he whispered as if he knew what Bucky was talking about. And Bucky knew he did.

As Bucky tried to get up so that he could tend to Rumlow's wounds, Rumlow shook his head. "No, you rest for now. You need to recuperate if we're going to move on and if you're going to be battle ready. Besides, I've once more tended my wounds for now." And Rumlow stuck his stick in the fire again.

Bucky snorted. At least the man cared about his health. None the less, it was a direct command so he obeyed even though he had a desire to tend Rumlow's wounds.

Closing his eyes briefly, Bucky chose to listen to the crackle, crackle of the fire. It was strangely soothing, as if it was music to his ears. As he listened he heard Rumlow shuffle around to get in a more comfortable position, and he could tell that Brock was making sure to put no pressure on one side of his body, the injured side of his body.

Opening his eyes again and watching his commander, Bucky caught him staring. Sighing, Rumlow snapped, "Fine! You can look at my wounds if that will make you feel better. But then you rest, huh? I want to move soon!"

Giving a slight smile that Rumlow had given in to him, Bucky struggled to sit up with a sigh. It was his programmed, protective behavior, whether or not he realised it, but it was calling him to protect his commander from harm. As he meandered over and sat by Rumlow, Rumlow undid his vest, his combat suit, and his shirt a little to let Bucky look. But he made sure that he was still armed and prepared for battle. "The emergency kit is in my backpack, by the way," Rumlow tagged on, indicating the backpack to the right of his rifle. And he made sure to snatch his weapon while he was at it.

"I know," Bucky dryly responded as it was even standard military precedure and not just with Hydra. And he'd noted the weapon long ago. He couldn't take it if he wanted to because of the programming, but if he could, he would have snatched it already and there would have been nothing that Rumlow could do about it.

Understanding that Rumlow revealing the place where the medical kit was as permission to take it from the backpack, his programming didn't stop him as he rummaged through the pack and took it out. As Bucky peered at the wound, he frowned.

The wound was healing but it still looked sore. For some reason, Bucky couldn't help but feel sorry for the man, despite being a captive. He'd had bullet wounds before. Reaching into the med box he pulled out some ointment and rubbed it on, putting the cap back on. Rumlow grunted.

It was the best that Bucky could do for now. Overall, the wound seemed to be healing fine. He didn't think it would cause Rumlow any permanent problems, despite how painful it probably was.

As he moved away from Rumlow and as Rumlow buttoned up his shirt and did up his suit again, Bucky watched him thoughtfully. The man was irritated. And that could be a sign of shock.

"I could take first watch," Bucky found himself offering before he could stop himself, and he knew that he would have no choice but to honor it if Rumlow agreed.

Sighing, Rumlow nodded. "It's a nice offer, but I don't think I could sleep in my current state."

"Too much pain?" Bucky asked, wincing as he vaguely remembered what it was like after his mind wipes and how he couldn't sleep. He would shake uncontrollably, in agony, crying.

Rumlow must have realised from his facial expression what he was thinking of, for his expression softened some. "Rest for now," he commanded. "You need to regain you're strength if we're going to travel and if you're going to be battle ready."

Bucky obeyed immediately as he realised his exhaustion. Laying down, he tried to make himself comfortable, and found himself unable to. Despite this, his eyes began drooping shut.

Next thing Bucky knew, he was fast asleep.

(Steve Point of View)

"Please tell me you have good news for me!"

Natasha was in the pilot's seat while Sam was on the phone with some people in DC. After coming to a dead end, and no sign of the group of vehicles they were looking for, they decided it was best to call in some help for Bucky's sake. Of course, that meant explaining exactly what Bucky was doing out of country and all the legal complications there. Steve remembered it all too well.

They had been looking for logistics, cameras, anything to give them information. But it was like they'd mysteriously disappeared. Clint had tried to say something to him, but when he realised that Steve wasn't talking to him, he stopped.

All in all, their mining for data hadn't turned up anything. Sighing, Steve slammed the dashboard of the cockpit where he was sitting in frustration, being careful not to break it. Natasha glanced at him. "We'll find something," she reassured him, but even she seemed uncertain for once.

Banging his head against the dashboard and leaning against it briefly, he finally unbuckled and went to sit in the back as Nat flew the quinjet.

Sam sat by him. For a while, there was silence. Then, he finally broached, "Steve, we've been at this for hours."

"I know," Steve whispered, strangely calm.

Sam shifted in his chair then suggested the inevitable. "Steve, we've done everything we can do on our own for now. Let's face reality, we need help. And before you say anything against this, remember, we have to put Bucky first in all of this. Right now, we need to get him out of a dangerous enviroment and we're not going to be able to do that unless we have help."

To everyone's surprise, after a moment of contemplation, Steve agreed, "Okay."

This stunned everyone. They hadn't expected Steve to agree so readily. In fact, they'd expected an argument, and Sam had even prepared a long list of why they needed to do this. This only told everyone how desperate Steve was.

"I'm just not looking forward to the legal complications," Steve grumbled.

Nodding at Sam his permission, Sam got out his cell phone and began punching in some numbers, area code indicating Washington D.C. unfortunately. Steve groaned and indicated with his hands that he wanted to talk at some point.

"Yes, sir." Sam addressed. "No, it's Sam Wilson, sir. Yes sir." There was a pause, and Sam visually hesitated. "Well, you see, we have an issue we need help on, sir." Steve motioned with his hands again, indicating that he wanted to talk, and Sam nodded. "Sir, Captain Rogers wants to discuss it personally, sir."

Sam handed the phone to Steve and Steve was surprosed to hear the new Secretary of Defense on the line, Madame Coop. "Captain Rogers," her pleasant voice wafted towards the line. It was a relief to hear her of all people because she tended to be a compassionate woman. Steve knew that she would work with him. "What seems to be the issue?"

Steve took a deep breath and then launched into it. "It's Bucky," he breathed out, the stress and worry getting to him again. Taking another deep breath, Steve launched into his story, not mentioning who he was going on a date with for professional's sake. He then explained how Clint had gone behind his back and had taken Bucky on a mission without his consent. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Clint hang his head in shame.

As he continued on, mentioning their capture and Bucky's sale to Hydra, Madam Coop's breath hitched on the other line, and Steve closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them again. Getting up, he paced the cabin.

"We've tried everything!" Steve stressed, fists clenched, though the one over the phone wasn't so much squeezed. "There is no sign of them, and we've traced everything that we can!"

"Calm down, Captain Rogers," Madam Coop ordered, and Steve obeyed, letting in a shacky breath that rattled his chest. "Okay," Coop began, now that she was certain Steve was calmer. "In all honesty, seeing this is in another country, I'm not sure what I can do about it. But I will help you if I can."

She paused. "Having Bucky back in Hydra's clutches is not in anyone's best interest. That, and he's a beloved war veteran that has been through too much. We have access to satellites that may be able to detect things, but seeing as you and your Avengers have state of the art technology, I'm not sure how much we can help you if you are unable to turn up anything yourselves. But we can also put word out to our contacts, and if anyone hear's any chatter, then we'll know and pass it on to you. Just bring him hime safely, will you?"

"Yes ma'am," Steve breathed, relieved about the lack of legal complications for Bucky.

"But do me a favor and let Clint know that we will be having a chat with him when he gets back," Madam Coop's tone was sharper as she gave her last instructions.

"Will do," Steve acknowledged.

Coop's tone was softer now. "It's not his fault, you know. But he's probably going to need more help when he gets back."

"I know," Steve sadly responded, tears threatening to leak from his eyes. "I will bring him home!" he firmly determined, his eyes fierce even though they watered some, the phone pressed loose to his ears.

"I know you will," Madam Coop acknowledged in confidence. "You would do anything for him."

With that, they said good byes and Steve hung up, handing the phone back to Sam. "They're going to see if they can gather any information." He turned his back on everyone, not wanting them to see his tears. Despite that, his voice shook as he continued, "But they're not sure that they can do anything. If we are unable to find information, chances are, they won't be able to find anything either. Bucky's simply gone missing."

Unable to keep his tears back, Steve pressed a hand to his mouth in horror, closing his eyes as he sobbed, letting his worry and terror get the better of him again. The thought that he may never see Bucky again while who knows what was being done to him was too much for him to bear. He felt his tears splatter on his shirt, and suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him, tentively coming up to him.

Sam's comforting arm draped around his shoulders, and he was squeezed a little. "We'll find him," Sam tried to reassure him, but Steve shook his head in despair.

"Wh-what if we c-can't?" Steve anguished, leaning into Sam for support. "Wh-what if it's to-too l-late? Wh-what if they've fr-frozen him again?"

"Hey," Sam squeezed his shoulders again. "Don't think that. We'll find him." But even Sam looked uncertain as Steve glanced at him.

Steve moaned in fear. "You can't find someone who is frozen and put in storage, Sam!"

"But you don't know that's what happened," Sam replied. He looked away, unable to meet Steve's gaze and continued, "For all we know, he's wide awake somewhere and he's waiting for you to rescue him."

"They're probably hurting him, Sam!"

"We'll find him," Sam reassured him, and Steve was sobbing again. Sam gently guided him back to his seat and strapped him in beside him. For a little bit, they let Steve cry, letting him express his feelings, letting him get it off his chest so that he could focus. Right now there was nothing they could do.

When Steve had finally calmed down some, he wiped his tears and did his best to put on his mission face. Unable to meet Clint's eyes because of his anger, he faced straight ahead as he informed the man, "They want to speak to you when you get back, Clint."

Clint hung his head again, but he said nothing. Steve could see the sorrow and guilt on his face but he was still too mad at Clint and what he did to Bucky to have any pity for him currently.

Natasha, meanwhile, was having the plane scan for anything abnormal. Finally she announced, "There's a clearing of trees. I'm going to set this bird down."

"Why?" Steve asked suspiciously.

Nat sighed, but she began angling the quinjet down. "Aerial surveillance is doing nothing. We're going to have to search the whole sector on land if we're going to find anything."

"She's right," Clint piped up and Steve only responded by leveling a menacing glare at him. Clint didn't reply after that.

Steve turned his attention back to Natasha. "How are we going to search on land if we don't have any vehicles with us?"

The plane finally touched down and Natasha put the "parking" brakes on. Then she swivelled around to face them. "We rent some vehicles."

"Do you really think they're just going to loan us some vehicles when they know that we fight crime?" was Steve's sarcastic response.

Nat rolled her eyes. "Ordinary car rentals? No. But I wasn't referring to them."

Sam and Steve both had a puzzled look on their face, never having been in the world of spies before. "Then who would?" Sam asked, his bewildered tone causing both Natasha and Clint to smile.

The two assassins exchanged a look and and Clint smirked, "You'll see."

Steve rolled his eyes.

(Thirty minutes later)

Steve had come to expect a lot of things in the twenty first century, from flying boats to phones that could fit in your hand. He saw even more with Shield and all their diverse tech, and their many different ways of achieving the same thing.

But this was not one of them.

They were in the middle of an empty parking lot, nothing but a shack that sold bikes as the only thing in the middle of the parking lot. Tons of bike debris, from tires, to brake pads, to spokes with no wheel were scattered about. The parking lot was the only thing seen for miles.

The shack was the size of the room of a small apartment ans as they stepped inside they saw that it was filthy. Oil was scattered around, and bike parts were everywhere. A sign in the window said, "Buy one bike, get another free!" But there were no bikes, only bike parts.

The place smelled dusty and moldy, and there was a weird green growth on the walls. Sam gagged when he saw it. Both he and Steve looked uncomfortable being there. But Clint and Natasha seemed right at home.

Smoke from what looked like a cooking grill wafted to them from a glass closed off area. Nat and Clint stood casually around, waiting. "Be right with you!" an accented English voice called out, and they waited patiently for the man to emerge. And emerge he did.

A Brazillian man greeted them, his teeth wide apart with an underbite of a jaw. His brown eyes seemed to be full of mischeif, making Steve a bit wary and uncomfortable around the guy. He smelled of alcohol, and Steve had been around enough alcoholics that he was even more wary. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a drunk.

Clint and Natasha, however, semed to be completely comfortable around him. He was a man of medium build, and upon seeing Clint and Natasha, he waddled over to them, wheezing. "What's up, yo?"

Shaking Natasha's hand eagerly, causing Steve some jealously, he went to shake Clint's hand. "Hey! You never gave me car back!"

Clint managed to look embarrassed. "Sorry. I lost it in a fight."

To Steve's surprise, the man shrugged them off, waving a hand. "That's okay. We'll put it on your insurance."

Both Steve and Sam raised some eyebrows. "Let me guess, spy insurance?" Sam sarcastically retorted, folding his arms.

But the man looked at them like it was perfectly normal. "What else? Home owners insurance?"

'Okay,' Steve thought. 'Spy insurance is new. Why not though?' It made perfect sense, especially with everything he'd seen.

Sam's mouth dropped in surprise. "Seriously?" he whispered to Clint. "Spy insurance exists?"

"Yeah, how else do you expect us to do our jobs?" Clint looked at Sam like he was crazy.

"But where do you even get spy insurance?" Sam asked, almost fascinated.

"By knowing where to get it," Nat responded with a shrug.

Steve made a face, completely out of his turf. "I didn't even know it existed."

Both Clint, Natasha, and the Brazillian looked at him like he was crazy, responding, "Of course not! Duh! **_Spy_** insurance!"

"Oh," Sam replied like it explained everything even though he was just as confused as Steve.

"So spies have spy insurance," Steve tried to reason out everything. "I don't suppose they advertise."

"Nah, man! It don't exist!" the Brazillian responded, causing Sam and Steve to pucker their foreheads in confusion.

"But you just said it existed," Sam answered in frustration.

"Because it does exist!" the three others responded.

Now Steve frowned. "But you just said that it doesn't exist."

"Because it doesn't!" was the reply.

"But-" was Sam's confusion, and even Steve had to admit that he was pretty lost.

Nat sighed. "Okay, so it exists, but it just doesn't **_officially_** exist, okay?"

"Okay?" both Steven and Sam replied, still completely confused.

The man waved them through his little shack. "Come. Let's see what kind of car me can get you."

"Car?" Sam whispered to Steve incredulously. "What cars? They'res nothing here! For miles!"

Steve merely shrugged and followed Clint and Nat, trusting them that they knew what they were doing. As it was, he was completely lost, and he suspected that if there were cars they were going to come out of thin air because that's what they were here for.

To both Sam and Steve's surprise, the Brazillian man grinned, and he stompped twice on a portion of ground. "Yo, the name's Roberto, by the way!"

Suddenly, the ground rumbled, and Sam let out a moan of uncertaintly as the whole shack disappeared underground. Like an elevator, they were brought underneath, a large garage seen underneath.

Row after row of cars of various sorts lined the garage, and as Steve got out of the shack, he saw that the rows of cars extended endlessly for 360 degrees. Sam, for his part, had his mouth open wide, and even Steve was dumb struck.

The Brazillian man grinned. "Ya like?"

Sam let out a squeek and nodded eagerly. Steve couldn't even speak for the awe he was in.

After getting a hold on his awe and emotions, (both Natasha and Clint were looking at Sam and Steve's reactions in amusement), Sam asked Roberto, "The shack?" He trailed off, knowing that the man would know what he meant.

Roberto shrugged. "It's a cover. It's all good. I operate this, mainly for me country, and they let me go tax free. Meanwhile, I make good money. Ya know what I'm saying?"

Sam nodded appreciatively, excitement like a little kid before his birthday in his demeanor. "I do, man!" He totally liked. But of course, Natasha and Clint were behaving casually as this was fairly normal for them.

Roberto began leading them down the long line of cars. He even had semis for crying out loud! "So, what kind of pretzel are y'all looking for? Something bashy? Something that screams, ya hurt me I'll mess with ya face?"

"Actually," Natasha stepped in. "We need something with lots of gadgets and surveillance equipment. It needs to be a car, something fast, something that can take a beating and that we can slam into an enemy car if necessary."

"So, fast and furious?" was Roberto's offer with a cheeky grin as he looked back at them. They continued to walk at snail pace.

Clint nodded with a grin. "Fast and furious. Let's show these newcomers how it's done!"

"It's cool, man!"

Shaking his head appreciatively, Sam chuckled. "Maybe I'm in the wrong business after all. I should be a spy!"

"But it's not just about the gadgets, Sam," Steve cautioned, not sure how a bit of "bling" as modern people called it, could make the world of spies any better than an ordinary job.

"But it is, man!" Roberto called back, turning briefly to give them another cheeky grin.

"Can't argue with that!" Sam appreciated,

Personally, if they were alone and not with Clint and Natasha, Steve would have told Sam the down sides he had seen to being a spy. It's not like he would mention Clint's family, even after what he did to Bucky, but he would tell Sam that it didn't really help you when it came to familial and romantic relationships. That is unless you were both spies, of course, and honesty wasn't your first priority in a relationship. Still, it took time for Natasha to open up to him.

Steve sighed as Roberto led them to a sleek, deep black sports car that looked ordinary. But Steve had been around spies long enough by now to know that appearances weren't everything. And sure enough, Clint and Nat were grinning.

"What do you think?" Roberto asked them cheekily, a little arrogance in his tone.

The two spies looked at each other. "We'll take it," Natasha firmly responded, and Steve and Sam cast each other a wary look.

"Good, I'll go prep the lease," Roberto shrugged and began walking away disappearing into the distance. "Wait here, y'all."

Sam's jaw dropped. "What do you mean we'll take it? We don't even know what's in it, what kind of gadgets it has! We haven't even test driven it."

"No need," Clint responded, pulling his iphone out. "Nat and I already looked up potential vehicles while we were walking the line." And with that he showed Steve and Sam the phone. Sure enough, listed on the phone was a list of all the horse power, the gas mileage, and all the high tech gadgets that came with it. And sure enough, the website listed Steve had never heard of before.

Steve shook his head in amazement. "Um, okay? Spies have a top secret rental car website?"

"Uh, no!" Clint and Nat responded simultaneously. "Such websites don't exist!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Of course they don't! Just like this place doesn't exist." Everyone could hear his sarcastic response. Everyone chose to ignore it in awkward silence.

Just then, Roberto came back with a bunch of paperwork. He handed it to Natasha since out of the two spies, Steve had noticed that Natasha was the best at paperwork. "Okay, just sign here and here, will ya?" Roberto pulled a gold pen out of his pocket in his pants, and he handed it to Natasha.

Natasha didn't even bother reading it. To Steve's amazement, she just signed it swiftly. Steve's jaw dropped when she did this without even reading the contract, and Sam's eyes got bigger.

"Um, Natasha, you might want to read-" Sam began, but it was too late for Natasha immediately handed it over before Sam could finish his statement.

"All done!" Natasha grinned, handing it over to Roberto, who grinned back. Then she handed him the gold pen which Roberto kissed before stowing it away in his shirt pocket.

Roberto took the car keys out of his smoke smelling jeans and tossed it to Natasha. "Y'all have fun!" he encouraged and he crumpled the contract into his left jean pocket where the keys had been. Then he waved and a smoke bomb appeard in his hand out of nowhere. He threw it to the ground, leaving everyone coughing, and by the time the smoke cleared up, he was nowhere to be seen.

They were back in the parking lot, except this time the shack had disappeared. There was nothing but the parking lot, them, and their new car for miles.

After getting over his shock and looking around to find them alone, Sam rounded on Natasha. "Man, you didn't even read the contract!"

"Didn't need to," both Clint and Natasha responded.

"They're all pretty standard," Clint added, his hands in his pocket, looking pretty laid back.

Steve sighed. "We're never going to get an answer out of them," he warned Sam. That much he had learned, working with spies.

Both Steve and Sam shrugged, both still pretty confused about the whole ordeal. Opening the door, Steve motioned Sam, "Get in first. I want to have my shield to the window just in case." Sam shrugged but got in.

Natasha started up the car and grinned. "She's nice."

"Yeah," Steve responded sarcastically. "Nice for a spy car."

"Yup!" Clint added, ignoring Steve's sarcasm. "She is."

When they were all buckled in, Nat revved the car. "Time to take this baby for a spin."

And with that, they sped away.

(Bucky Point of View)

Upon waking up, Bucky gasped, the smell of smoke and charred wood reaching his nostrils. As he looked over, he saw that the fire was no longer going, the smoke rising up in a thin little grey whisp.

Rumlow was leaned back against the grity cave wall, seemingly asleep. His breathing was long, ragged, and heavy, but overall, he looked better. His wounds were healing, slowly. Despite this, Bucky knew that his commander wasn't asleep. The man was merely resting his eyes, but was as awake and alert as ever.

As Bucky shifted, some, still exhausted so he was unable to keep from rattling the ground, Rumlow opened a single eye and gazed at Bucky warily. "Rested some?" he inquired, and Bucky shrugged frowning.

"Not very well," Bucky admitted.

A soft sigh escaped Brock. "Can't be helped." He sat up more, trying to lean more to the left where his wound was, testing his side. He grimaced some, but for the most part it appeared that he could handle it.

At Rumlow's response, Bucky frowned in frustration. He didn't like hearing that something couldn't be helped, and he was more than frustrated with his predicament. Upon seeing his expression, Brock huffed a little. "What is it?" he exasperatingly responded, some impatience in his voice, as if he was tired of dealing with Bucky. And with him having injuries and Bucky mentally unsound, there were bound to be some tempers.

Bucky frowned more. "I hate my circumstances!" He looked away, unable to meet Brock's gaze.

Something must have stirred in Rumlow, for his response to Bucky was softer than expected. "Hey," Brock's small voice sounded. It was gentler, more compassionare. Rather than respond, Bucky chose to look at the deep, intense colors of the ground, finding the burnt umber and yellow ochre tones more interesting all of a sudden. He drew in a slight breath threw his nose to smell the savory odors and musty tang of fresh mud. He was willing to do anything to ignore Rumlow at this point.

"Hey," Rumlow's soft tone came again, still compassionate. "Look at me."

Unable to disobey a direct order from his commander, Bucky had no choice but to obey against his will. Looking Rumlow in the eyes, he saw some slight concern, and a softer demeanor than he had ever seen from the man before.

"There you go," Brock rumbled, leaning his head back to rest on the cave slightly. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Now why don't you tell me what's on your mind?"

"I already have!" Bucky automatically obeyed. "I hate being here! I hate being a captive! I hate my circumstances!"

Brock nodded, taking this all in. "It's not so bad," he tried to reassure Bucky, and Bucky looked away in frustration. "Look at me," Brock commanded softly again, and because of the programming, Bucky was forced to. "I know that you're upset about all this, but it'll be all right."

"Yeah, for you!" Bucky dared his retort.

Brock made a face. "Well, neither of us are getting what we want, are we?"

"And all you want from me is to be my handler!" Bucky cheeked back. His hands tensed and he looked away again.

Brock was dry now. But some compassion remained in his tone. This time, for some reason, he felt he had to be firm with his Asset. "Where do we look when we speak?" Brock commanded hard, firm, but softly, and Bucky had no choice but to look back at him.

"At my commander," Bucky grudgingly obeyed, answering the question perfectly.

"And did I ever tell you to loose that eye contact when I asked you to look at me?" was the next question.

Personally, Bucky didn't see the point of this. But his programming forced him to obey. "No." He frowned more, scowling.

"Very well then, since that is the case, you will maintain eye contact when you speak to me and when we are having a conversation, unless I say otherwise. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Bucky submitted, and a satisified look was in Rumlow's eyes.

"Now," Rumlow started again, as he was confident that he had cleared things up with Bucky's attitude. "What is bothering you? And don't give me the spiel you gave me before. I know that there is more going on. I can see it in your eyes."

As Bucky's breath hitched, panic in his tone, he felt tears come to his eyes. He wasn't sure to to explain it. "I don't know how to explain," Bucky admitted.

Brock's eyes softened some. "Just do your best. That's all I'm asking for."

A soft sigh escaped Bucky then as he saw that he would have no choice in the matter, even if it came out harshly. He didn't want to offend Rumlow for fear of what the man would do to him. "Relax," Brock reassured his asset. "I won't do anything to you, I swear."

"You'll be offended," Bucky warned him, still obeying, merely organizing his thoughts to try to make it not as harsh as possible.

Brock shrugged. "I can take it. We need to work things out."

"But that's the thing!" Bucky exclaimed. "I'm a captive! You don't want to work things out! You say everything can't be helped, like your powerless to let me go! You're forcing me to go back to Hydra and acting like you have no choice in the matter. And I also don't like it when you say that things can't be helped. They can be!"

"What I mean is things are the way they are," Rumlow replied.

"But things can be changed!" Bucky exclaimed, desperation in his tone, pleading with Rumlow for mercy.

Brock snorted in derision, shaking his head. "No they can't be. Things are the way they are. You need to learn to accept things as they are."

Bucky's face fell and he felt tears prick at his eyes. But he was desperate not to cry. 'Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry,' he told himself. Despite that, one lone tear fell.

Brock shifted uncomfortably upon seeing this, Bucky still forced to make eye contact. "Hey," was the soft response.

Shaking his head sadly, Bucky moaned, "Why?" It was a question he was still struggling to have an answer on. But he chose to add on even though he knew he wouldn't get a full answer, "Why are you doing this to me?"

Rumlow remained silent, staring at him quietly, despite Bucky's pleadings. So Bucky tried again. "What did I ever do to you to make you want to do this to me?"

As Brock uncomfortably shifted, a moved expression on his face, he looked away. "I can't answer you," was his reply, and Bucky found himself sobbing without meaning to. He wasn't able to control himself at this point.

"You always tell me that!" Bucky complained, tears running faster down his face. Everytime he needed an answer, no one was able to provide it, even his therapists. "Please, sir! I'm asking for an answer!"

Shaking his head, Brock sighed and looked back at him. "No you're not," the man softly responded, meeting his eyes sadly. "You're asking for closure, and that's something I can't provide because I don't have an answer. I don't know why you were singled out and all this was done to you. Zola, and all the others initially involved in the project, are the only ones who could provide you that answer, and they're dead now. The rest of us, handlers included, were merely provided the information on how to use you and control you. We were never told, not even Pierce, as to why you were chosen to begin with."

Bucky so badly wanted to look down. It hurt him that his questions were never answered. But as Rumlow talked and as he self reflected on the nature of his questions, he realized the man was right. He was looking for closure from these answers, something to help him accept it and move on.

But he wasn't able to bring himself to accept his circumstances. He couldn't believe that going back to Hydra was his only option for him. But as he thought on how Rumlow seemed somewhat displeased with Hydra almost, he wondered if he could work with Rumlow enough to convince him to leave Hydra for good.

"Why are you with them?" he finally found the courage to ask.

Brock cocked his head curiously. "What do you mean?" he cautiously responded, sensing a hidden motive. He knew more than enough to be careful with the Asset.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky risked, "Why are you with Hydra?" As he was forced to maintain eye contact, he kept his expression neutral. Crossbones already knew that something was up. He knew Bucky and his tendancies too well.

Narrowing his eyes at his Asset, Rumlow demanded sternly, "Why are you asking?"

Bucky searched for answer that wouldn't give away his full intent as he was forced to answer. Unfortunately, the programming was making him be completely honest, and he was forced to say, "I don't want to go back to Hydra. I was thinking that neither of us has to go back. I-I was trying to convince you to let me go."

Upon seeing his answer, a pleased grin spread across Rumlow's face much to Bucky's surprise. "Forced honesty. The programming has increased intensity!" A shiver went down Bucky's spine as the man said this, and Brock chuckled darkly. "Don't think too much on it. Apparently, you're programming is repairing itself. Hydra forced you to be honest as a way to control you. They didn't want you hiding anything from them either."

Great disappointment was on Bucky's face and as his face fell, Rumlow chuckled again. "It was a nice try, kid, but don't try that again. In fact, I order you not to escape and not even plan to escape. No attempts either." Groaning in frustration as he knew that the programming would force him to follow that order, Bucky kicked at the ground. At least Rumlow seemed amused with his attempt this time, and he could hope that would mean he would be lenient.

As Rumlow considered what his Asset did, he tilted his head and looked at Bucky again, meeting his Asset's eyes. "You must really be desperate." Bucky nodded his confirmation. There was a visible pause in Rumlow's demeanor, and then he commented, "Technically, I should be punishing you for behavior like that."

As Bucky's eyes widened in fear as if he were in mortal peril, Rumlow held up a hand and waved it dismissively. "But I'm not going to do that. Not this time anyways. Tell you what, I'm not even going to report this to my superiors even though I should. Let's let this stay secret between you and me."

This sparked Bucky's curiosity even as he breathed a sigh of relief. Tilting his head, he asked what he thought he observed, "Are _**you** _ rebelling against Hydra?"

Brock snorted in derision. "No."

"Then why not report me and punish me?" he pressed forward, a little bolder as he felt a little more comfortable around Rumlow now that he knew he wasn't being punished. "Is it defiance to them?"

Gazing suspiciously at his Asset again, Brock considered warily, "Why are you asking?"

Taking a deep breath, Bucky replied in what he felt was a risk, his stomach tightening, "Because you're being kinder to me right now than you're supposed to be as a member of Hydra."

Rumlow's eyes softened some and he looked away, refusing to answer. "I'm trying to understand you," Bucky pushed forward.

"Never mind," Rumlow growled grumpily, but his expression was far from grumpy. It was distant.

As he watched Rumlow's behavior, Bucky decided to try again. "Why did you join Hydra? Clint said you hated injustice."

The man before Bucky froze, and when he finally untensed, he turned back to Bucky, gazing at him sadly. "What is it to you?" bitterness was in his tone as he responded to the Asset.

Bucky considered this. What was it to him?

"I don't know," Bucky admitted. "But it's important to me."

Sighing, Rumlow considered the question. Apparently he decided to answer, for he began, "It... was mainy years ago. As a child, I grew up and saw poverty, and what frustrated me most was that people who had the means to help wouldn't."

"Were you one of those that needed the help?" Bucky questioned.

Rumlow shook his head. "My family was moderate. Not well to do, like others where we were at, but we weren't in poverty. We had a little left over to help the poor, but my father was unwilling, even as my mother wanted to. Since I was young, I'd wanted to help those that needed help. That's partly what drew me to Shield, admiring them at a young age. I wanted to join them some day. But my father was strict with the money. He kept even what little we could have given to himself, and occassionaly to us. Don't get me wrong, he never let us starve and he always clothed us. He even let us learn some hobbies. But he was never big on charities."

Brock frowned as he thought on his childhood and the way his father was. As the man brought his knees up to his chest, thinking, it was a moment before he responded again. "That is what I really wanted to do, help, but I was always forbidden in that regard. You see, my father was strict with no mercy. He thought it was a man's place to earn a living for himself and his family. If they couldn't make a living, then he thought it was somehow their fault.

"Meanwhile I saw a bunch of rich people, especially some rich friends, whose parents lavished them with gifts, and yet they never gave any thought to giving anything to the poor. Seeing their rich accomodations, and the horrendous amount they owned, then seeing the depth of poverty of others, I was outraged. 'Why,' thought I, 'Must these rich people keep everything to themselves while the poor suffer? There must be a better way.'

"By the time I was older I saw even more injustice in the world. I heard tales of people being sold into slavery, people killing just for the sake of it, and people robbing the innocent just because they could. I'd even heard tales of the rich terrorizing the innocent. From that time, I knew that I wanted to make a difference.

"But I also saw the blunt arrogance of Shield and how they seemed to turn a blind eye to certain problems, like they would pick and choose what they wanted to focus on and what they wanted to ignore.

"It was about that time that some scandalous things about Shield had been released, how they'd let a rich man go who had terroized a woman and her three sons into forcing them to sell their property to him just so that he could build his personal golf resort. It was their entire living. And yet Shield let the man go, keeping the property and all, with just a slap on the wrist and the woman got no justice whatsoever. After that, I was turned off from Shield. I thought there had to be a better way."

Brock swallowed and his eyes were in the distance now, unfocused. "That's when Hydra first came to me. And everything they said made sense. After all, if people have the means and won't help, why not take over their resources and **_make_** them help? They were going to do great things, I knew it. And they had a solution for everything, even the injustices in the world that I'd seen. But they also knew that sacrifice was necessary. I was fine with that, as long as we could weed out the corruption and injustice around us."

Now looking at Bucky, Brock gazed at him firmly in the eyes. "After giving much consideration, I decided to join Hydra. I never regretted it. We did great things, and we delivered justice when no one else would, even to that rich slob who took that woman's property. He went on to take other people's property and Shield knew and never stopped him."

Bucky's breath hitched, and he gulped when he heard this. A sudden image of a caucasian man in a tux lying in his blood on his bed in a vast mansion reached Bucky's mind. He shuddered. Bucky was pretty sure he knew now who Rumlow was talking about and he was pretty sure that he had killed him. But he hadn't remembered the man until now.

But based on what Rumlow was saying, that meant Rumlow had been with Hydra for some time and had worked with Bucky for some time. Though Bucky remembered Rumlow some, he didn't remember when he had first met the guy.

"When did you and I first meet?" Bucky asked Rumlow, trying desperately to shove the image of the dead man out of his mind so that he didn't have nightmares that night. It was probably too late. He was probably going to have nightmares of killing the man that night anyways.

Surprise seemed to be on Rumlow's face. "You don't remember?" was the astonished response.

Bucky shook his head. "I remember you some, enough to recognise you, and I know you trained me a bit. How you trained me, or what you trained me in, I don't remember."

Rumlow nodded his head. "Makes sense. Too many mind wipes. You were only meant to recognize your handler and your commander. Your handler especially. After recieving the command codes I never chose to use them until now."

Another shiver ran down Bucky's spine. Rumlow chose to ignore this. But as Bucky gazed at him persistently, wanting an answer, Rumlow sighed and gave in. "I had to work my way up in Hydra, I worked hard, as hard as I could, unlike others. I was very loyal to the cause. You see, I believed in it, still do in fact. That got people's attention, particulary those in high places. Truth be told, I think they fought over me a bit." Rumlow smiled about that. Then he continued, "I was still young then, and I'd been transferred around a bit as I gained popularity in the eyes of many commanders.

"Eventually, I personally came to the attention of Alexander Pierce before he was your handler. I was transferred to his command and that was the finale transfer I had until he was dead.

"I worked with Pierce for a while, and after a couple of years, he became heir to "Allana" Varvara Polyakov. Her previous heir, Egor Mishkin died in Hydra's service rather tragically. It is rare for leaders in Hydra to be married and have children as there isn't usually time, but she did.

"She married one of her Hydra servants, rare as it is to marry and even rarer to marry someone beneath you. But she loved him and they had a daughter together. Usually, though, when that's the case, you were passed to the child and the child inherited you. Spouses never inherited you. However as it's rare, there was only one other incident where you were passed on to a child. That said, this time it wouldn't have worked for her spouse to inherit you anyways because her spouse had tragically died also while serving Hydra leaving her and her daughter.

Bucky remembered her. He remembered his Hydra handlers easiest of all because of his connection to them. He remembered protecting Allana's daugter even, watching her from the distance.

It was then that Rumlow stated the obvious. "But having her daughter inherit you wouldn't have worked out because her daughter was just a little kid. There was no way they were going to have a little kid inherit something powerful like you. So she had to have an heir, at least until her daughter was old enough to handle you. The she could replace even her commander over you with her daughter, make her daughter her heir and your commander.

"She was relatively young, and she was fervant in our cause, much admired. She brought peace within Hydra. Everyone looked up to her. She was also the youngest handler you've ever had. She was one of the best, I hear, I only met her once, when Pierce had business with her. See, she saw clear back in the seventies that power in the world was shifting into America's favor and that someone needed to keep an eye on America. She also knew that peace needed to be brought between the two factions of Hydra in order to get us to work together for the greater good.

"It was a tough decision, but she knew there must always be an heir to look after you. After much contemplation, she chose Pierce, who was strong in leadership in America, both in and out of Hydra, to be her heir. It surprised many, but they had no problem with it and could see that it was a wise move. She could always remove him later when her daughter was ready, as was expected. That, and Pierce looked up to her, was in awe of her. He had great respect for her, and she knew it.

"They had worked well together previously a time or to and she knew his track record with Hydra, so she was comfortable with him, more so than anyone closer to her. This more than anything brought a fractured Hydra together. Pierce would be her heir for over a decade and a half and then she would die, her daughter around 16, not old enough to even be a member of Hydra, let alone heir.

"And so, Pierce would go over secretly to Russia train as your commander, on now to control you and use the command codes and other things. He would also carry out her orders. She would occassionally come here as well. Pierce was your commander by the time I was under his command, and Mitchel helped to train me more on how to better serve Hydra.

"So, being finally in the inner circle, I learned of you. A couple of times I even went to Russia, accompanying Pierce as I was high level. But I was never allowed to see you. I didn't actually see you for the first time until Pierce brought you back from Russia, now your handler, frozen. That was the first time I'd glimpsed you was in cryofreeze."

Bucky considered this, unsure if he should be disturbed at Rumlow's perspective of things. Finally he got the courage to ask, "And how long until I saw you?"

Rumlow frowned. "I wasn't allowed to train with you at first. You were dangerous, see? They wanted to gauge you first, get used to you. Then I was brought in, to be your guard initially, and then your trainer. We initially met in the med bay before you got some updates on your arm."

Bucky frowned as he didn't really remember this. "How did you train me?" he then asked.

Rumlow chuckled darkly. "Are you sure you want to know, kid? Don't ask for something that you can't stomach and handle."

"I have a right to know," came Bucky's sharp reply, and Rumlow shook his head at Bucky.

"Best for you not to know."

There was a hesitation from Bucky now. "Was it bad?"

He gained a long stare in return. "What do you think?" Rumlow retorted dryly.

And for some reason, Bucky had to know. His stomach clenched and his mind wouldn't stop assaulting him until he knew. "But what _**happened**_ to me?"

Rumlow sighed. "You were obedient to Pierce, but the other members of Pierce's staff had to ensure your obedience, through any means necessary. We used the training methods that Pierce observed and was instructed on should there be even the slightest mistake or disobedience."

"Your skirting the answer," Bucky accused, unable to level a glare because of the programming.

Rumlow gave him a long gaze. "You don't want to know," he finally responded. There was a difficulty in his tone, like it was something he had been forced to do but could barely stomach. His demanor and tone were hesitant, regretful. "Those days were... admittedly... hard for me. But I knew it had to be done. We were all at risk with you."

"And yet you still did it?" Bucky questioned.

Rumlow squirmed uncomfortably and looked away, unable to meet Bucky's gaze. "We had to," he reiterated. "You were dangerous. You had to be controlled. We were all at risk with you, so we couldn't afford you slipping control and hurting somebody. We couldn't afford you disobedient, or even making a mistake. It was necessary harshness."

But Bucky gulped.

"I have to know."

 **The rest will have to be moved to the next chapter. Stupid 10,000 approximate word limit!**

 **I apologize for the long delay in updating.**

 **Please read and review!**


	5. Chapter 5: Stockholm Syndrome

**I don't own Captain America.**

Chapter Five: Stockholm Syndrome.

(Bucky's Point of View)

But Bucky gulped.

"I have to know."

Rumlow shook his head sadly. "It's not needful."

Tears poored down Bucky's face and Rumlow seemed to be in apprehension. "Hey," he softly murmured. "Look, kid. I'm trying to keep from hurting you, 'kay? I don't want you to feel bad about it."

"You don't understand," Bucky murmured softly, desperation in his tone, his fists clenched as he tried to explain himself. "Half the time, I don't know where I've been in life and what I've done. I mean, I have fuzzy, vague memories, but there's a lot of people I can't answer because I don't know. And I don't even know what's driven me to this, anyways. I feel pain, but I don't know what I'm in pain from because I can't remember. I feel the trauma, but what from? I don't know. I also feel terror, especially at night. And I can't remember why. What happened to make me so afraid? I don't know." Bucky frowned.

Gazing at him sadly, nodding softly, Rumlow shifted some. "You do know you'll experience more trauma if I tell you, right? You're nightmares will only get worse."

A soft growl escaped from Bucky. "I'm already in trauma! And I can't face things if I don't know what's happened to me. I can't even work it out with my therapists because I don't know! What's it to you anyways? You don't care!"

Rumlow seemed to consider at is point, and he moved around a little bit to get more comfortable. But he seemed more tense, like he wasn't pleased with the way the conversation had gone. It was like he wasn't pleased with the topic. None the less, he acquiesced.

"You're wrong," he murmured to Bucky. "I do care. More than I should. That's why it hurt me to do that. I never liked doing the training with you, but I was always told you were dangerous and we were always afraid that you would kill us if we didn't keep you in line. That's why I joined Hydra, because I cared about what went on in the world, more than most. But doing those things was always hard on me. I was relieved when less training was finally needed."

Finally meeting Bucky's eyes again, Brock continued his story. "I've never taken pleasure in torture and abuse, unlike some. Some wanted to beat you, just for the sake if it. But Pierce and I would never allow it. That wasn't what it was for. The training wasn't there so that folks could have a good time harming you. It was a teaching tool, that was all. It was meant to emphasize that wrong behavior wouldn't be tolerated.

"You see, whenever you transferred command and went to a new handler, you were always unstable. You'd killed many before. That was why we had to be careful and why we had to retrain you into obedience each time.

"I never enjoyed seeing you strapped there, mind wiped after a teaching session to force the programming to stick. You would cry out, beg us not to, beg for mery. You would ask us why. You were always more vocal whenever you first gained a new handler. But our instructions were not to respond to you, to ignore you.

"That first time I met you? That was when your training had begun. Pierce had just unfrozen you, and they were gauging you. They knew you were dangerous, so they had you strapped down. But despite being strapped down, you'd somehow managed to escape and go on a killing spree. You'd painfully eviscerated many workers." Rumlow shudded as if remembering something unpleasant. "I remember being part of the clean up crew." Rumlow shuddered again and Bucky saw the fear in his eyes. Suddenly it made sense why Rumlow had been so afraid of him when he had been taking him to Hydra.

As Rumlow continued, Bucky's gut clenched. "Some of the workers were still alive, but there was nothing we could do for them. They died painfully. You see, you were very unstable, especially mentally. That was frightening when you had gotten loose in the base and were attacking random people, coming out of nowhere. We all thought we were going to die. It was a blood bath. And it wasn't like you were trying to escape. You were crazy, attacking randomly before disappearing again, then coming out of nowhere somewhere else. I was lucky not to see you, not to encounter you. But others weren't so lucky. You were very dangerous and unstable, mentally unsound.

"Finally, we had to bring your handler Pierce in because we knew you would obey him, submit to him. But he was still adjusting to the bond."

Rumlow looked him in the eyes. "We **_had_** to train you. Otherwise you would go on blood baths. We _**had** _ to keep you under control. But to do that meant pain on your part."

Bucky had almost stopped breathing. So entranced was he in Rumlow's tale that he'd forgotten how tense he'd gotten. He didn't remember any of this, let alone going on killing sprees. "Was this... each time I gained a new handler?" Bucky hesitantly asked, worried. He bit his bottom lip. "Did I... always... go on killing sprees?"

Rumlow gauged him and then nodded. "Always," he confirmed.

"And... the training?" was Bucky's next question.

Suddenly, Rumlow looked away again, his fists clenched. He closed his eyes briefly, sucking in a deep breath through his nose. Bucky waited patiently for Rumlow to deliver an answer. "We used burning," Rumlow finally admitted, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Part of the training was since you'd gone on a killing spree, you had to be punished. So we strapped you down and **_literally_** burned you within an inch of your life..." Rumlow was gagging from the memory, his face in horror no matter how much he tried to conceal it, and Bucky was ashen pale, in shock, frozen in fear.

"We knew, given time, the serum would heal you. The serum you had before falling from the train was unperfected, so that is why you have scars on your shoulder. But Hydra experimented on you and perfected the serum, so we knew that there was no risk of not healing completely, like with your arm and shoulder. We knew there wouldn't even be so much as a scar on you after the serum healed you..." Rumlow had to gain his composure again.

"So we strapped you down, set you on fire, and..."

Upon hearing this, Bucky choked, even though he didn't remember. He felt nauseated, and the room spun. His fists clenched and he was breathing hard.

Even Rumlow was shuddering, his face ashen pale as he remembered. "And we were forced to watch you scream," he finally finished. "We were forced to watch you beg. That was only one of many things we did to you in punishment at that time, not even counting the mind wipes, or when we got started in the actual training so that we could control you. Other things happened, before you were cooperative with your new crew.

"It wasn't easy doing it, keeping a stoic, emotionless face while watching you suffer. The only way I got through it was because I told myself I had to protect my people and my team, and to do that we had to be in control. We couldn't afford you using your skills on us, just because you didn't understand your feelings and emotions. We couldn't even risk letting you have emotions bcause of how volatile your emotions were. You tended to be dangerous and deadly with them."

Rumlow turned to face him cautiously. "I think you were confused after the bonding. I know Pierce was confused. He even got sick after the bonding. That may have been normal because it took a lot of adjusting for both partners from what I understood. Pierce was bedridden for a while because of how hard the initial bonding was. The difference is, I don't think you knew how to cope with it, and Pierce wasn't in a position to help you because he was still adjusting to the bonding. But he was sick when we brought him in. From things Pierce told me after he gave me the command words, you both were in shock after the bonding. That's apparently normal."

A shrug came from Rumlow and he looked away again. "In hind sight, of course."

Bucky felt completely sick to his stomach, and as he clenched his midsection, hyperventilating, Rumlow shifted uncertaintly, uncomfortable. "Hey," came Rumlow's soft voice, as Bucky had bile in his stomach that he was focusing very hard on keeping down. His face was pale and he groaned, tears running down his face. He knew his time with Hydra was bad, but he didn't realise it was that bad. Rumlow had admitted that they had used the serum running through him to make sure that he didn't die when they did terrible things to him. And he didn't even know the half of it.

"I did warn you that you didn't want to know, didn't I?" Brock gently pushed, and suddenly Bucky hurled, unable to keep it back any longer, shaking considerably.

As he collapsed onto the ground, facing away from Rumlow, he heard Rumlow shuffle and come to sit by him. Suddenly, to his surprise, Rumlow patted him gently on the back of his shoulder. "I know it's hard," the man murmured. "But it's best not to think about it. Don't ask me again."

"I've got to know some time," Bucky's voice shook, despite how hard he tried to steady it. But he knew he wouldn't be able to ask because of the stupid programming. The tears flowed readily, and he began sobbing, unable to cope with this new revelation. Rumlow patted his back more. "I really did need to know," Bucky explained between sobs as he cried. "I'll never be able to face it and move on otherwise."

"Ignoring it is best," Rumlow disagreed, hand resting on Bucky's shoulder.

"But then I'll never get better. It's always on the back of my mind, then."

Rumlow didn't seem to know what to say. As Bucky cried more, shivering, he asked, "Are they going to do this to me again when I get back to Hydra?"

Rumlow froze. Terror gripped Bucky when he sensed this. He turned to face the man. "How much are they going to hurt me?"

And Bucky's eyes widened when Rumlow was unable to meet his eyes. "It's hard to say what they're going to do," Rumlow admitted. "I'm not in the leadership anymore, so I don't know. But if the reaction you keep having after the bonding is indeed due to the initial bonding, then you're probably going to react aggessively, in which case they will train you."

Bucky moaned in fear. "You're going to hurt me again, aren't you?" he morned sadly, and Rumlow sighed.

"I don't know that they will allow me to be trainer, truth be told," Brock admitted. "There is a lot that I don't know with this new leadership. So much is uncertain, including that Hydra is going in the direction it should."

"And Hydra's new leader?" Bucky gulped. But he decided to push forward anyways. "What does he think?"

Meeting his eyes sadly a brief moment, Rumlow looked away. "There is no leader," Rumlow replied strangely, oddly.

Bucky thought it was unusual and opened his mouth to respond when all of a sudden Rumlow glared at him. "Don't ask," Brock sharply reprimanded Bucky before he even could, and Bucky closed his mouth obediently. "It's not needful for you to know. I've already said too much."

Bucky was admittedly disappointed as he felt Rumlow hadn't said enough to him, considering what he learned and that he knew a lot was held back.

It was after this that Rumlow patted his back again as if trying to offer comfort, for Bucky was still shaking from the shock and fear of everything. He was afraid to go back to Hydra and he was even more afraid of the pain and that he would loose his mind again. For all he knew, there would be no coming back from it this time. Or he would be a slave forever.

Tears rolled down his face again and Rumlow rubbed gentle circles in his back. "What is it?" he gently asked.

Bucky couldn't keep from feeling cold to his bones.

Then he replied, "It's just not fair."

"Life isn't fair," Brock countered, only making Bucky grim.

"It's fairer for you," Bucky retorted bitterly. He closed his eyes, exhausted, as Brock responded.

"Not really."

(Steve Point of View)

One of the first places that they took their newest rental car was to the quinjet. The agreement was that a group would be in the car while the rest would be in the quinjet where their back up weapons were, that way if anything happened, they had both weapons and a quinjet to back them up.

When Clint volunteered to stay in the quinjet, much to the downfall of his face, Steve automatically elected to stay with the car. Sighing, Natasha shook her head and cast her vote to the quinjet. Everyone suspected that she wanted to keep her best friend company. And Steve was admittedly in a bad mood for the first ten minutes during the ride in the car because Nat had chosen Clint and not him. But at least Sam chose to be loyal to him. And Sam was a **_much_** better driver than they were pilots, thank you very much.

But even he could tell that Sam was getting tired of him. "You might want to cut the attitude, Steve," Sam had advised when he'd had first pulled the car out onto the road, the quinjet lifting off. Dust and debris flew everywhere, leaving the smell of fresh mud on the car.

And Steve had responded with quite a bit of intimidation in his demeanor, "Shut your trap."

Sam had wisely chosen to stay quiet after that, but not before muttering under his breath, no doubt knowing that Steve could hear, "And you wonder why you're scaring everyone lately?"

Much to Steve's credit, he didn't respond to that remark. But his sour mood remained, making things very awkward between him and Sam. When Sam started whistling to try to relieve the tension, Steve glared at him. "What!" Sam retorted in indignation. "Seriously, you're lucky people are helping you with that kind of attitude. If it were me, I would have just ditched you by now and gone after Barnes myself!"

"You wouldn't," Steve threatened.

Sam chuckled. "Watch me. Come on man, this isn't you. I get it, I really do. You're ticked about the whole kidnapping incident. But don't take it out on me. I'm doing you a favor here. And I'm doing it because I'm your friend and his friend. That's why I'm offering you this advice. After all, **_I_** didn't take Bucky illegally out of country."

Steve deflated at this, realizing his mistake. "You'r right," he admitted, regret in his chest, as well as guilt. "I'm sorry, Sam."

"Hey, no problem," Sam offered, being gracious as always. "And while we're at it you might want to loosen up on Clint."

This only made Steve angry. He gave a one word answer, tense again. "No."

Sam rolled his eyes. "People make mistakes, you know. Even big ones. You're no different."

"This was a pretty big mistake," Steve replied sourly.

Sam sighed. "And letting Bucky fall into Hydra the first time wasn't?"

Steve froze, all of his emotions from the whole incident crashing down. While he did this, Sam signaled to get into the left lane and made a sharp left, trying to stick to less used roads.

Admittedly, Steve was flustered. "That's different!" he exclaimed aloud, and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Uh huh," was his unimpressed response.

"I didn't mean for him to fall!" Steve defended himself, red in the face, but not from anger. " ** _I_** didn't take Bucky on mission he wasn't supposed to go on without proper back up when he was mentally ill! Clint did."

"Regardless, mistakes happen," Sam murmured softly. "And either way, Bucky got hurt. Let it go."

Sudden mischief was in Steve's eyes. If Sam wanted him to let it go, he could. "Let it go, let it go!" Steve began singing, knowing Sam's dread.

And Sam's eyes widened in realisation all of a sudden as Steve's tone grew louder. "Oh, gosh! No! Please no!"

Steve sang louder.

"You're torturing me!"

Steve chuckled and continued on. "Nooooooooooooo!" Sam cried. "I'm _**dying**_! I'm _**dying**_ in here!"

"No you're not!" Steve laughed at his friends antics, and Sam glared, "Not funny!" the man murmured causing Steve to laugh again, his eyes light.

It was about this time that they finally got a communication from Natasha. "You might want to take the street on the far right," she instructed, causing Steve to gather his composure and get all serious again. "We're picking up some weird signatures on our craft."

The sound emmited out of the speakers in the car, and finally the far left of the windshield lit up with a detailed map noting unusual energy signatures in the area. "Cool!" Sam exclaimed, geeking out evident in his eyes. "I'm a spy now!"

Rolling his eyes, Steve replied in sarcasm, "Just because your using a spy car doesn't mean that you're a spy."

Sam chuckled. "Sure it does! I'm James Bond now!"

"Oh!" Steve choked. "Please no!"

With that, Sam chuckled and started humming the James Bond theme, making Steve cover his ears. Unfortunately, Steve knew that Sam knew his ears were extra sensitive. That said, Sam still shouted, "It's payback, you know!"

"It's more than payback," Steve muttered, upset.

Suddenly, the screen on the windshield beeped again. "We're getting something," Nat reported, and her tone was worried, serious. "Clint and I are setting this bird down. Sending you the coordinates now."

With that, Steve glanced at what they had. He was surprised to see multiple energy signatures, none of them moving. Immediately, Steve was worried about what this would mean. He hoped that Bucky was okay. Sam straightened his course to make sure that he was heading in the direction of whatever they were going to find.

"What is Rumlow doing with him?" Steve growled, his stomach tightening considerably. "It's a pity he miraculously survived that suicide bombing of his. He has the nine lives of a cat."

Sam scoffed. "I'd wondered how he'd survived a building dripping on him. Now I wonder how he survives having a bomb strapped to him. Is it just me, or does Rumlow seem emotionally unstable?"

"Which is wonderful," Steve sarcastically responds with a frown adorning his features. "Bucky's already mentally ill. He doesn't need a mentally ill man kidnapping him."

"Already happened," Sam retorted bitterly.

"And I still don't know how I'm going to explain this to T'challa. He gave me strict instructions, before he set about overthrowing the Accords and before he negoitiated Bucky's freedom and everyone's return to the US. I was not to let Bucky out of my sight or in Hydra's hands; having a guardian was paramount to everything."

As Sam glanced worriedly at Steve, he shook his head slightly. "He'll understand," was the reassurance Sam gave."T'challa is a good man. He's understanding. Bucky is his friend as well. He'll only want to see Bucky safe and sound back home."

"If we can get him back," Steve growled, his features darkening.

"We will," Sam paused, gauging Steve.

"And who knows what state he'll be in," was the response. Sam wisely stayed quiet after that.

They turned on the right road, but they weren't prepared for what they found. Steve choked and gagged, horror in his features. He froze in shock, even as Sam had a distressed look on his face.

Parking the vehicle, Sam acknowledged Natasha with a nod. The quinjet was already landed and she was standing outside the entrance of it.

But it was the debris that had everyone's attention. As Sam and Steve got out of the car, the smell of death hit them. Streaks of twisted metal and car parts were everywhere. The stench of oil permeated the air, and a chill was in the wind as they glaced at the scene. Oil watered the ground, but nowhere near as much as the sticky blood that had not even dried yet. Shells from amunition of various sizes littered the ground.

Dead bodies were everywhere, the blood still seeping out of them. Many of them had expressions of horror on their faces, their weapons still in their hands. Too many of them were mangled beyond recognition, and in many instances body parts were missing on the dead only to be found many yards away from their victims. Some had their heads literally ripped off.

Steve couldn't look at the horrible scene anymore. "It makes me wonder what happened," Sam choked, and he'd been in battle before.

Natasha was walking over to them. Steve couldn't meet her eyes. "Have any of the dead been identified?"

Nat shook her head. "But some of them were carrying Hydra related weapons and objects on them, and Clint recognised some of them as those that participated in kidnapping Bucky. The others he didn't recognise."

"And... Bucky?"

He couldn't help the sigh of relief along with the extra worry when Natasha answered him, "Neither he nor Rumlow were found amongst the dead." Steve's worry and releif was obvious, and Nat placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, staring him sincerely in the eyes. "Steve, Bucky is _**alive**_. He's not here."

"Then that means Rumlow is too. And who knows what he's doing to him." Steve looked down in worry. "We don't know how injured his. This was a terrible fight."

After shaking her head, Natasha sighed. "Not very, if he is at all, I imagine." Steve looked at her curiously. "How do you know?" he asked.

"Because," was her knowing answer, and she gazed once more at the scene around her, not disturbed at all, as if she were watching childrenplay baseball. "This was Bucky's handiwork. He went on a rampage, he did. But whether or not it was a controlled rampage..." That got her frowning.

Considering the evidence before him again, Steve realised that Bucky did indeed have the skill to do this. But Natasha's end comment had the hair on his skin standing on the end. "What do you mean by, 'whether or not it was a controlled rampage'?"

Her eyes were distance, and there was some reluctance to return her gaze to him, but Steve was persistent. "Look," she pointed around, gesturing at everything. "Regardless, Bucky lost control. It could, and is likely, that it is because he felt frightened. It's true that he's not exactly sane," and when Steve glared at her, she shrugged and gave a challenging expression back. "He's mentally ill, with PTSD," she corrected, and Steve let her off with the comment.

Natasha was analyzing the scene before her with a skill and understanding that only an assassin and a spy could have. "Perhaps," she mused on, more to herself than anything. "Perhaps, having PTSD and having something like this happen could trigger him to be violent and uncontrolled. It's definitely not in his normal personality, and it's definitely not something he would normally do when he's a little more himself. That means he was at the least out of it. He also suffers other mental illnesses that could trigger him to be aggressive if threatened. You know that, and it's why the US government was insistent with T'challa that Bucky be watched at all times, for the safety of others.

"That said, while he's had some aggressive outbursts, even outside of the flashbacks and nightmares, they've _**never**_ been this aggressive before. He's never shed blood. Then again, his life wasn't really, truly threatened before. At the same times, the other times he's had the violent outbursts, he did think he was in life threatening danger."

"What are you saying?" Steve demanded, impatient once again, crossing his arms over his huge, muscular chest.

Once more, there was a hesitation in her. She turned her body to Steve completely. "This is abnormal, even for him," she concluded. "But it was definitely his handiwork. Steve, Rumlow is **_missing_**. Bucky is **_missing_**. Nothing about this is **_normal_**. If it were merely Bucky doing this, why isn't Rumlow's body in the body count?

"We know from sad experience that Bucky can be triggered with words to do things against his will. Rumlow, we know, has trigger words, trigger words that apparently weren't found in that book. We didn't even know about those other words. We thought they had removed everything from his mind. How many more words exist? How many more words does Rumlow have that were probably passed on only orally? Rumlow went with Bucky, he had to have. Rumlow had to have been behind making Bucky do this."

"But why?" Steve asked. "Why slaughter his Hydra agents?"

At that moment, Clint chose to appear, coming from examining everything. Steve scowled upon seeing him and Clint ignored it. Sam nudged Steve and the supersoldier sighed. "He didn't," Clint frowned, glancing back at the mess of the situation and bloody bodies. Steve noticed medical gloves on Clint's hand, and Clint deflty and swiftly removed them. Nat brought a ziplock bag out of her back pocket, and Clint took it and stuck it in there.

A deep huff escaped Clint and he blew the air out of his lips, stress on his face. "I examined the Hydra agents. Most died in blunt force trauma, and examining the car, they were in a roll over. The one that Bucky must have been in I examined the most. It had a medical gurney, so that's how I knew," he answered Sam and Steve's questioning look.

Taking a deep breath, he went on. "They appeared to be loose in the vehicle, no seatbelts or anything. One of the drivers died from a bullet wound that clearly came through the shield. What's interesting there is that the shield is bullet proof. The weapon was strong enough to penetrate it. The other driver's head was smashed from the abrupt impact. All the Hydra agents, apart from the presumed escape, died.

"In the other vehicles, some died from impact, but most died from a bullet fight. Using a scanner, I was able to match it to known DNA. Most were blank, but the only one I found was from Bucky. There wasn't a whole lot of his, though, so he probably wasn't very injured."

"And you're sure of that?" Steve challenged.

Clint shook his head. "Only ninety nine percent sure. Besides, he heals fast."

Steve looked away angrily. "Outside of known Hydra," Clint continued. " ** _Some_** died of bullet wounds, but most were torn apart brutally. Whatever happened here, Hydra wasn't prepared for it and most paid with their lives. But so did the attacking party. That said, there were foot prints leading away, and there were some tire tracks that led away, albeit the footsteps were a few hours older. Whatever vehicle the other group left in wasn't really functioning well."

"How many footsteps?" Steve demanded.

Clint faced him squarely and seriously. "Two," he confirmed.

Steve clenched his fists. "Rumlow."

"Probably," Clint sarcastically retorted. "The guy seems to have nine lives, surviving a building dropping on him and surviving a suicide bomb."

"And he's taken Bucky with him." Steve was mad.

There was a hesitation on Clint, but he voiced it anyway. "Examining everything, they were only intending to kill Hydra, not Bucky. They wanted him alive. They also possessed the vehicles that escaped, I'm positive. Steve, these other people are trying to trail Rumlow and Bucky. They're not going to take Rumlow alive. They want Bucky to themselves."

"For who knows what," Steve whispered worriedly, squeesing his eyes shut.

"He has a valuable skill set," Nat offered. "In the right hands, as long as he's controlled, he can be used as a dangerous weapon. On the black market it would be incentive for many."

"Which is what T'challa and the governments were worried about," Steve finally admitted the little tid bit he'd left out to everyone. While Natasha and Clint didn't seem surprised as if they'd already known or had figured it out, or it was obvious to them, Sam seemed fairly surprised.

"What?!" Sam exclaimed, eyes wide with worry. And then he broached cautiously, "Does Bucky know about this?"

Steve winced. "I didn't want to worry him," he finally admitted. "He already had so much on his plate. I wanted him to focus on getting better."

"He had the right to know!" Sam protested. "It was part of the agreement, according to you just now, for his freedom."

"Something like that," Steve admitted. "And I know I made a mistake not telling him. But I honestly never thought something like this would happen. I thought I could keep him safe. And I thought I could trust certain people." Clint gulped as Steve leveled a menacing glare at him.

"Sorry?" Clint squeeked.

"Sorry doesn't cover it!" was Steve's mad response.

"Hey," Sam urged. "Let it go. And do not sing that song again."

Glancing around at the scenery again, Steve considered everything that had gone on. And there seemed to be information missing.

Steve frowned. "It still doesn't make sense why our sensors didn't pick up that this was here and why we didn't detect anything earlier."

"Actually," Clint began. With that he stepped away and brought back a small little oval device. On top was a small flashing light. "I stripped this out of both vehicles. It repels technology, making someone untrackable. There are probably smaller, hand held versions to conceal a person and make them undetactable, even by heat. Remarkable, really."

Nat stepped forward in interest. "I've never seen anything like that before."

"Yeah," Clint added. "Shield never had anything like this."

Steve gave some thought as to what he'd seen. He'd known that Hydra had technology that even governments didn't have. As he pondered this, realising they'd have to physically track Rumlow and Bucky the old fashioned way, he nodded.

"Let's take the quinjet and vehicles. Nat, you and Clint fly."

(Bucky Point if View)

The point of the rifle was pointed towards a man wearing a tan military like uniform. He had a pistol strapped to him, hand gun in the left hand, and he was shouting at his workers as they surrounded a truck, working on the engine. The man had an aggressive look on his face, and he even hit one of his workers at one point.

Winter growled. As the aggressive feelings stirred inside Bucky, having been hit many times over the years and the stress of the situation getting to him, he did his best to calm his mind. He didn't want to be here. But his commander had ordered him to come here.

Bucky had hiked nearly eight miles in the dense forest to spy out their pursuers. As his wounds were healed and as Rumlow was still resting so that they could leave, Bucky was the only option to spy out the situation. Besides, he was the only one who could actually slip out undetected and spy out everthing. Rumlow wasn't exactly trained for subtitly like the Winter Soldier was.

Growling to himself again, Bucky packed his rifle in only a few seconds time and slipped away, ready to report. Rumlow only felt more comfortable moving once he knew they could slip out unseen, that and he wanted to see the direction that their enemy was headed for.

Bucky hated being forced to obey. But there was nothing he could do about it.

It didn't take long for him to make it back to their little cave. Bucky slipped in so quietly and swiftly and stood at attention like he was programmed to do, that when Rumlow looked up he was starled.

"How was it?" Brock asked, concern on his face. He was less pale and his mood was a lot better now that he'd gotten some rest.

Though irritated and wanting to bring a harsh retort back, the programming rendered him unable to, forcing him to be docile and keep hostility and aggression out of his voice and demeanor. "They're following us in a military truck, which doesn't appear to be working right now."

Rumlow didn't seem surprised. He had known the truck was troublesome. "You disabled it well then." Bucky wanted so bad to frown.

But his commander seemed to sense his bad mood anyways. "What?" Brock asked him as he began packing.

Seeing as Bucky was unable to give a polite explanation, the only thing he could answer since he was ordered was, "It would be innappropriate to say."

Brock huffed, looking down as he tightened various straps to compress the material in the pack. "Say it anyways," Rumlow granted permission, and Bucky was forced to obey.

"I hate being controlled. I wish you had died in that suicide bombing of yours, then I wouldn't be in this situation."

Rumlow froze, his features in shock. He looked up and narrowed his eyes at Bucky. "You're not going to cause trouble, are you?" he demanded to know.

"I can't, sir," was Bucky's forced reply.

Brock considered this and shrugged. "Clean up your attitude, kid. We have to work together."

"You're forcing me to work with you." He had to say it in a manner that was matter of fact and not defiant and mean it that way because of the programming.

"Barnes!" Rumlow snapped, frustration and exasperation in his gaze. "I've been a lot more lenient with you, a lot more loose with you, and a lot less strict with you, considering everything you've done. When we get to Hydra, this ends. You're not going to be able to speak your mind anymore like you've been doing, especially not with your handler. You'll only get yourself punished. So do everyone a favor and watch your mouth and attitude. You'll get punished a lot less that way."

Immediately, Bucky shut up, a sad and upset look on his face. Seeing this, Rumlow sighed. "I'm just looking out for you by doing this, you know. It's for your good. When we get to Hydra, they're going to be a lot more strict with you, a lot more. They won't allow anything that they view as insubordination go unpunished. And the punishments will be unpleasant. I know you don't want that."

Rumlow sucked in a breath and looked out the cave, his eyes distant. "I don't want it either," he finally confessed. "Admittedly, you've grown on me some. **_Some_**." He emphasized, but Bucky wondered if he had grown on the man more than Rumlow wanted to admit. 'Being in life and death situations does tend to bond people,' Bucky observed as he realised that he did care slightly for Rumlow. The guy had been kinder to him than he'd expected, and for that he was grateful.

Rumlow continued staring out the cave at the moss that covered the entrance, hiding it. Then he suddenly sighed and went back to tightening his pack. "We'll wait a little while longer. I still need more strength to travel."

"And then what?" Bucky asked, tilting his head slightly. "They're still pursuing us."

Rumlow looked grim. "Then we fight."

Angry Bucky looked away. "I don't want to fight."

Rumlow sighed.

"We may have too."

(A couple hours later)

Rumlow was a bit better rested and by his attitude Bucky could tell he was ready to take on the world. Because he was rested, he was also surprisingly kinder to Bucky, a bit more gentle with him, a bit more sensitive instead of rough.

For the first time in a long time, Bucky was confused. While he didn't want to go back to Hydra, if he had no other choice, he'd rather have Rumlow as his handler than anyone else. Rumlow might be more lenient and kind to him than any other handler would be. He didn't want a handler, but if he had to, he would pick Rumlow, and he was surprised to hear himself thinking this. If it had been even a day ago, he would have resisted and hated any handler whatsoever.

Rumlow's backpack was strapped to his shoulders and his rifle was in his hands. To Bucky's surprise, he wasn't handcuffed but was instead allowed to carry a weapon. "Temporarily," Rumlow had explained.

Bucky glanced at it, still somewhat in shock at the responsibility being placed on him. Then, as Rumlow disappeared on the other side of the moss, Bucky followed his commander out.

Rumlow took point, heading down the steep incline carefully. Bucky was more agile than Rumlow and had now traversed the terrain several times. As such, the incline was easier for him.

Without any further argument, they began the perilous journey away.

About an hour into their trek, going slow so that Rumlow could treadle quieter, Bucky decided to pipe up while keeping his voice down, "Where are we headed?"

Rumlow ignored him. Bucky decided to try again. "Where-"

"Not now!" Rumlow hissed, effectively silencing him. The programming forced Bucky to bite back an angry retort. As if sensing his distress, Rumlow looked back. "I haven't really planned, truth be told. All I know is I want to get away from those people. I want to avoid a firefight if I can."

"And if we can't?" Bucky challenged, worry tinging his sense of sanity. The last thing he wanted was to be captured by unknown people who may be more cruel to him than Hydra ever was.

Brock glanced back at him. "We'll fight if we have to," was Rumlow's grim reassurance. But this didn't settle things for Bucky, and instead the pit in his stomach was feeling like it might give him more grief again.

It happened as suddenly as everything had the entire mission. Bucky heard it, the cracking of the twig, smelled it, the musty odor of dust being thrown up by vehicles, and he saw it, the only truck left, people approaching, guns splayed. As he gasped, Rumlow motioned him down, and he obeyed, his mind going into mission mode once again.

But it was too late. They had already seen him.

Bullets began fireing everywhere, thankfully over their head. Bucky used his sniper rifle and picked off the driver, then the one manning the machine gun on top, then a couple of the goons hanging out the door, opening fire specifically at Rumlow. Apparently they wanted Bucky alive.

Rumlow was doing just as well picking off attackers. But a live grenade was then aimed at Rumlow. Panic entered Bucky and his programming kicked in. He flew in front of Rumlow and batted the grenade away where it denotated between them and the truck, but not before Bucky threw Rumlow to the ground, laying his body on top of Rumlow's to shield him from the blast. After all, Rumlow might not survive exposed at the distance to the detonation, but even if he were in point blank range of a grenade, Bucky would survive. Ensuring the survival of his commander was ingrained in the programming.

The blast scattered debris everywhere, and Rumlow groaned, a headache apparent. He'd survived, thankfully. Bucky didn't know what he would do if his commander had died. He'd get punished by Hydra for not protecting his commander, for sure.

There was no truck anymore. Dead bodies lay scattered all over with shrapnel running throught them. In many cases, because of the close detonation, the shrapnel had literally gone through the body, and exited, bloody, only to be found a few yards away.

As he got off of Rumlow, Rumlow stood up unsteadily. Bucky helped him to his feet, only to be shrugged off by Rumlow. "I'm fine," he reassured his Asset. "I don't need help anymore." Obedient as always, Bucky backed off.

Brock picked up his rifle with a sigh and then went to examine the mess that they made. He summoned his Asset to follow him. Bucky obediently followed a few steps behind, subservient.

The carcasses had expressions of horror on their faces, and Bucky had to look away. He hated seeing the death and carnage that he caused, though in this incident it was because they had attacked them. That, and it was entirely by acciddent. After all, how was he supposed to know that when he flung the grenade, it would end up where it would kill their attackers? But it still bothered Bucky.

There wasn't much of the truck left, and Bucky could tell that it frustrated Rumlow. In fact, it was all blown bits and parts scattered about, the smell of burnt rubber supplemented with fire on various pieces of rubber strewn about the site. "At least all of our attackers are dead," Rumlow grunted, his mood slightly soured again. "No more should be comming after us. This is the last of them."

Bucky couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, wondering what he wasn't catching. "But?" he mildly asked, wanting furhter information on what was going on in his commander's mind.

Rumlow glanced back at him then turned back, kicking one of the dead bodies out of the way. "I was hoping that we would have a ride back in the end, but it looks like we're going to have to walk."

He shivered when he heard this, and he was grateful that at least another obsticle had been placed. The more time between him and Hydra, the better.

Rumlow strode out of the sight, and Bucky was pulled to follow, his programming working on him. As he was forced to follow, he realised, for the first time, that this was the programming doing this to him. He sadly wondered how much more of the programming hadn't been written down, and thus hadn't been removed from his mind. That is if it worked like that, which he suspected it didn't. This was a different kind of programming, a programming he feared was permanent.

Brock remained oblivious as he strode behind the man. Then Rumlow suddenly turned around, his expression schooled, his hand extended. Motioning with his hand, he commanded, "Give."

Bucky's face fell, but his programming made him submit, and he reluctantly handed over his only weapon, his face downcast. "It's not needful for you to have it anymore," at least Rumlow explained to him.

With that, Bucky was forced to walk on.

(Steve Point of View)

They were in the car, making no progress, and Steve was beginning to get frustrated. All his mind could think about was the potential horrors that Bucky was facing. Sam was glancing at him consistently, his expression worried, no matter how much he tried to school his features.

"We'll find him," Sam at one point tried to reassure him.

"In what state?" Steve moaned, the stress getting to him.

When the first sound of a bullet firing caught his attention, Steve bolted upright in his seat. Sam nearly slammed on the break, and with a glance at each other, Sam turned around, going offroad towards the direction of the sound. Then there was a major blast that shook the ground even where they were at.

Worry grew on Steve's face, but Sam didn't have time to comfort him. Hawkeye was soon on the radio, urgent. "We're picking up weird energy signatures," he confirmed and Steve was quick to answer.

"There's a fire fight going on somewhere near here. It has to be them. Nat, set the quinjet down somewhere. We need to check this out, and we'll meet up with you. Make sure to cloak the quinjet."

"On it!" was Natasha's response.

It was fifteen minutes later they arrived.

By the time they managed to make the drive to the sound, there was only dead bodies and burning rubber and car parts in the area of the fire fight. Steve quickly unbuckled and looked around, his nose cringing because of the acid smell of burnt rubber and heated metal. He scanned desperately the bodies, noting the sniper like wounds that instantly killed some of them, something both Rumlow and Bucky could easily do. Others had died from shrapnel piercing their bodies.

Sam called out, searching somewhere to his right, "We're clear here." This slightly relieved Steve, but only slightly. Bucky wasn't amongst the dead, but at the same time, neither was Rumlow. The guy really did have nine lives. The man probably wasn't even injured, the way it looked like the fight had flared. It would have been easy for him and Bucky to pick them off, the way they were exposed during the attacking, and knowing both men's fighting style.

"Same here," Steve's forlorn voice sounded. As he looked to the right, though, he noticed two pairs of footsteps leading out into the forest, away from the wreck. Looking up, he noticed Sam eyeing him, and as he motioned the man over, Sam noticed the pairs of footsteps too.

"Nine lives, man!" Sam whispered, shaking his head in awe.

Steve nodded to him, both of them obviously having the same idea as they began trailing the footsteps, going on foot from here.

Steve waited until they were a ways into the forest. Then he radioed the quinjet. "We're going on foot from here. We're tracking two pairs of footsteps. It's probably Rumlow and Bucky."

"Understood," Nat's voice came. "We'll track you and meet you over there."

Steve sighed, taking the com out of his ear. They were one step closer to Bucky.

(Bucky Point of View)

The sun was going to set soon, but there was still a fair amount of light left. As such, Bucky couldn't help the nausious feeling of forlorn grip him, even as he was forced to walk on by Rumlow. It was a sad feeling of despair, of being held captive and knowing that he was powerless to save himself.

But as suddenly as these feelings creeped up on him, a rough breeze from no wind came over him. A smile twitched on his face. Perhaps that meant that rescue was near.

He quickly schooled his features as Rumlow gave a harsh hiss, turning around and physically dragging Bucky in the opposite direction they had been going before letting go of him again. Bucky had to work to hide his smile. Evidently, though Rumlow knew that an invisible quinjet had just landed, he didn't know where it was landed. And they were headed right to it. But Bucky wasn't about to say anything. Chances are, it was his liberty they were headed towards.

"I hate Avengers!" Brock hissed, and he glanced at Bucky, giving him another command to obey. "Whatever you do, do not alert them to our presence. We might be able to sneak around them."

Bucky gulped as yet another option was taken away from him, but he submitted to Rumlow, nodding. He was just going to have to hope that they would find him. His rescuers were so close to finding him anyways. Chances were, Steve was with them. He missed Steve and looked forward to seeing him again, to feeling _**safe**_ again.

It was as they were headed in that direction, that they suddenly came across Steve and Sam. They had come out of some thick woods, and it was impossible to see more than a couple of feet in front of them, let alone know that there was a clearing in front of them.

Rumlow froze, and Bucky stood in shock, secretly elated. Even Sam was here to rescue him. Maybe Sam really did care about him, after all.

Steve and Sam were shocked as well. "Bucky?" Steve whispered with hope, his eyes suddenly taking in Bucky's dishevelled appearance.

And then Steve's eyes leveled on Rumlow, his gaze angry, glaring at him. Meanwhile, behind Steve and Sam, the quinjet uncloaked, and both Natasha and Clint stepped out, their weapons out leveled at Rumlow. "You!" Steve growled, his and Sam's weapons now out, both of them glaring at Rumlow.

Simultaneously, Bucky moved suddenly in front of Rumlow, shielding him, to the shock of everyone. Steve gasped in worry and surprise, even as Bucky shook his head. He hadn't realised it until now, but it was his programming that had forced him to take a defensive stand in front of Rumlow, to protect his commander. And he realised to his fear and forlorn, that his programming would make him protect the man, even at the cost of his friends' lives. He didn't want to hurt anyone, but at this point he couldn't control himself anymore.

"Don't!" Bucky begged, hoping that they wouldn't be threatening to Rumlow anymore, that they wouldn't push forward with that idea. He didn't want his friends' blood on his hands. He could only hope that the desperate pleading in his eyes communicated what he was trying to say and would save them.

Rumlow let Bucky protect them, a slight smug smile on his face as he casually stood around, realising what was going on.

And now Steve, Sam, Clint, and Natasha had their weapons pointed down as they observed Bucky's protective body behavior. But Steve seemed the most affected of all, as if he couldn't understand why Bucky was protecting his kidnapper, his face pained and saddened. "Bucky," he tried to reach out, vocally, his voice breaking. "We're here to rescue you. You're safe now. Why protect him?"

Bucky shook his head, unable to explain, and as Steve took a forlorned step forward, as if trying to reach him, Bucky tensed, prepared like a wolf to spring at him should he come near Rumlow any more. "Don't!" he growled, terrified at what he was doing, yet unable to do anything but protect and shield Rumlow. Steve stopped suddenly.

An unusual expression crossed Sam's face out of the corner of Bucky's eyes as he kept track of everybody. He couldn't read or decipher the expression, and it had him worried what Sam had concluded about him.

"Steve," Sam cautioned, glancing at his leader and then back at Bucky, worry now in his gaze. "Be careful," he warned. And his eyes were now analyzing Bucky, his position, and Brock's smug demeanor. A brief fear for Bucky was seen and Bucky desperately wanted to explain himself even though he couldn't. "Steve, be careful. Bucky probably has a trauma bond to Rumlow and is experiencing Stockholm Syndrome."

Pure shock flowed through Bucky that this would have been concluded about him, and he was in desperate denial, knowing that it wasn't true. It was the stupid programming that forced him to obey and protect Rumlow, that made it to where he couldn't explain himself. The last thing Bucky wanted was anyone thinking he had an attachment to his kidnappers, and he desperately shook his head, backing up towards Rumlow, who was smirking now.

"No!" Bucky gasped, not sure how to find his way around the programming so he could explain. He didn't want anyone thinking he was a messed up psychological case. "No!" Bucky shouted, seeing no way out of this but to lie. For once he was grateful that he was able to think quick on his feet, occassionally, to give an answer.

"No! I don't have Stockholm Syndrome! I don't have a trauma bond! I just- I just..." He struggled to come up with an answer, his response forgotten already from the stress. Tears flowed down his face for a moment, and he finally managed an answer. "I need Rumlow alive!" he shouted, and it was partly true, his answer, though only partly. "He has information that I need! Answers to my questions! You can't kill him! I need him alive!"

At this, Sam glanced over at Rumlow, who was frowning, almost anticipating loosing the situation the way Bucky was behaving. "Okay," Steve coaxed Bucky, their weapons still down. "Okay. We won't kill him," he promised Bucky, trying to reassure him. "We'll take him alive. Just step aside."

Now Bucky knew he was going to have to explain and come up with a reason as to why couldn't step aside. But before he could speak, a hardened body slammed into him from behind so suddenly, and he felt the icy tinge of metal pressing into his neck into the jungular vein, warm blood trickling down slightly.

Sheer terror was shown in Bucky's eyes. The sudden turn of events made him sick and dizzy, as pure emptions flowed through him. "Be still," Rumlow growled into his ear, and Bucky was pressed threateningly closer to Rumlow, the knife digging in more. "Want him to die?" Rumlow smirked to the audience, and Bucky let out a whimper of terror. "Be quiet!" Rumlow growled at him, shaking him harshly, and Bucky obeyed immediately, gulping, his terror filled eyes beggingly Steve.

There was horror in Steve's eyes as he watched the situation and Bucky helpless against his captor, limp in Rumlow's arms, carefully quiet. "Because I can kill him!" Rumlow threatened further, now having everyone's attention. "And I will. I'm not about to be captured! If I die, Bucky die's!"

Panic was in Steve's face, terrified for his friend, as tears flowed down Bucky's eyes. Bucky wasn't entirely sure that Brock's threat was real, truth be told, but Brock would know that everyone would think so. Regardless, he didn't want to find out whether it was real or not.

"No!" Steve begged, holding a forlorn hand up. "Please don't."

"Everyone put their weapons down and lay on the ground!" Rumlow shouted, everyone immmediately complying for Bucky's sake, seeing they had no choice, eyeing the weapon poised at Bucky's throat. "And slide your weapons to me! And beware, if you even so much as try anything, try to shoot me, I may die, but I will kill your Bucky Barnes and take him with me to my grave!"

Bucky watched helplessly as they obeyed, and suddenly Rumlow was dragging Bucky to the quinjet, chuckling some. "Looks like we have a way out after all, Asset!" his gleeful voice laughed and Bucky shivered, fearful eyes watching Steve who was in turn watching him helplessely.

As Bucky was dragged up the ramp, he got his last look at Steve before Brock suddenly hit the door panel, closing the quinjet. Bucky still had no idea whether or not Rumlow's threat was real, but that didn't change his captive state. For all he knew, Brock was bluffing out of desperation.

Bucky was dragged to the pilot's seat of the quinjet, knife still harshly pressed against his neck. Then he was thrown roughly into the pilot's seat. Rumlow swiftly put his knife away and just as swiftly took out his gun, pointing it at Bucky's head, even though the man knew there was nothing Bucky could do against him. Bucky couldn't even attack him and could only obey him.

The Asset's expression was still shocked, and he quickly schooled his features, making them blank, in an effort to emotionally contain himself in spite of the stressful situation. "Get us in the air!" Crossbones demanded roughly, and Bucky immediately obeyed, starting the engine and lifting them up, his face still blank, but his emotions churning more than ever, pain and fear were his constant companions, wondering why he had to go through this when he was almost rescued.

As soon as they were up enough feet, Bucky was shoved back in the chair roughly. He made no noise as Brock blocked his view, monkey with the controls, evidently having plotted in a course that Bucky couldn't see. Then Brock used his suit to slam into the metal underneath the jet's dashboard, pulling the quinjet's first tracker out, before slamming his fist into the wall and pulling the second, final tracker out. "So they don't follow us," he explained, crushing it to powder with his fist in the suit.

They were now flying to an unknown destination. Bucky was spun roughly in his chair to face Brock, and his face fell as Brock pulled the strong hand cuffs out. Latching them onto Bucky, his hands now in his lap, Brock spun the chair to face the piloting position.

Brock now took up the position of the pilot on the left. A vague part of Bucky wondered when he had learned to fly a quinjet, but he was too emotionally upset to think about it. As Brock took the controls, he gave his final command for a while.

"Now sit back and be quiet. We still have a long ways to go."

(Steve Point of View)

Steve could not get Bucky's look out of his eyes, the sheer terror as the knife was pressed against his throat, Bucky being dragged to the quinjet against his will, terrified, and the quinjet lifting off and leaving them behind.

His eyes starred blankly at the sky where Bucky had been, still in shock that his best friend was gone again. Then as it finally dawned on him what had happened, a pure scream of terror and animalistic rage ripped through him and he launched his shield at the nearest tree, decimating it with pure force to the astonishment and fear of the others as they flinched at his sudden display of anger. Having nothing left and feeling pure exhaustion and emotion, he collapsed on the ground, wailing loudly, the loss of his best friend as a hostage eating him up. They had been close, so close. And to loose him like this when they had been so close was pure pain, pure agony.

Footsteps came near him, cautious. "Steve," Sam said.

Steve lashed out with his right hand but never hit anybody. "Go away!" He continued wailing and crying, the images of Bucky in terror flashing through him. His imagination played with him, showing him potential horrors that Bucky would face because they couldn't rescue him. One, Bucky in a chair. Two, Bucky being beaten. Three, Bucky whimpering, curled up small in a cage. Four Bucky being strapped down and experimented on. Five, Bucky begging them to stop hurting him, to stop the pain.

"Steve," Nat whispered. This was no doubt worse to her than his break up with Sharon. She came to sit by him as Steve was curled on the ground, crying desperately from his loss. He didn't lash put at her. He couldn't anymore; he was so tired. "Oh, Steve! I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" And suddenly she was crying to.

The entire crew watched the grieving Steve weep, helpless to comfort him.

 **Please review.**


	6. Chapter 6: Trauma Bonding

**Chinese Paladin 5 is out! Check the new show out and the music!**

 **I don't own Captain America.**

Chapter Six: Trauma Bonding

(Bucky Point of View)

Soft tears spilled down Bucky's eyes and down his face as he waited silently, obediently. He was quiet, obedient as ever, and he didn't even as much as cast a look at Rumlow. But he could still sense Rumlow, and his movements as he piloted the craft they were "escaping" in.

As his tears continued to spill onto his soft suit, Rumlow sighed, and Bucky chanced a look at him. Compassion was back on the man's face, and Bucky heaved, his breaths coming in gasps as he tried to compose himself.

Rumlow seemed awkward. "Maybe I was a bit too harsh," he finally admitted. "I was more worried about getting us out of there. I was lost in the situation with your... ah... friends." With that he cast a glance at Bucky. Bucky said nothing, not being bidden to speak. As if sensing that Bucky had something to say, Rumlow announced. "If you want to speak, go ahead. I know you have things on your mind that you need to get off your chest."

It was a like an iron hand that had been squeesing his chest had been removed and he was free to breathe. The first thing Bucky asked was, "Why order my silence? Why point a gun at me? You know I can't disobey you."

Brock flinched slightly. "I didn't think about it," Rumlow admitted, puffing out some air. "I was stressed over not getting captured. Like I said, I was caught up in the situation and all I knew was I needed your cooperation without you trying to cause trouble."

"I was almost home!" Bucky mourned, sobbing as he tried to keep the tears from falling again. But it was without success. "You took me away from my friends and my family!"

Rumlow had a hard time answering him. But he finally managed, seeming eirie in his response, "Hydra is your family."

"Not like them!" Bucky cried, knowing his face was a mess now. And it was embarrassing showing his feelings like this, but he couldn't help it. "Not like them! Steve loves me! He cares for me! He's my brother! And he's never tried to hurt me."

Brock was mysteriously silent, his expression kind of closed off. As if trying to answer for himself, he replied after a few moments, "I can't go back to Hydra without you. I'm not allowed to. Hydra is my family too, you know. I want to go home too."

"Even when you killed some of them?" Bucky meekly asked. "Went free from them for a while?"

"I was lost," Rumlow admitted. "Upset even. But in the end, I still believe in Hydra's goals and their ideas."

"Even though you're not sure they're going in the right direction?" Rumlow sighed and looked away. For once he couldn't answer Bucky.

But Bucky continued pressing forward. "You didn't have to be so rough with me. I would have gone with you willingly."

"I also had to make sure your friends wouldn't interfere," Rumlow defended himself. "I'm sorry, Barnes. I didn't think, okay? But that doesn't change that we both have to go back to Hydra. So I'm sorry I was rough with you."

Bucky nodded, grimly accepting the apology. At least he was allowed to talk again. But he still couldn't help but be depressed that he was going back to Hydra.

However, he felt unfortunate that Rumlow had noticed this. "Don't be sad," Rumlow murmured. "You're going to be okay. I promise, I'll try to make sure you don't feel a thing when we restore some of the lost programming, okay? There's no need for you to suffer needlessly."

A soft shiver went down Bucky's spine. Evidently the programmed words that were taken out of his mind they were eager to input again, like he was a computer. Or they were eager to install something else. How they were installed to begin with, he didn't know, and it frightened him. He was even unsure that Rumlow's offer could actually be done, even if Rumlow was convinced it could be.

"And the mind wipes?" Bucky dared to ask.

"That, too. As long as your good, I don't have a problem with knocking you out for it as long as it isn't for a punishment. No needless suffering, right?"

Was that even possible, even for the mind wipes? The doctor tending him didn't seem to think it was. But then again, she could have just been saying that because she enjoyed his suffering because she was cruel. As he reflected on this, he realised that Rumlow didn't take joy in his pain and suffering like others. He truly was in Hydra for different reasons. And that somewhat reasusred Bucky, but not completely. He still didn't know that Rumlow's offer was possible, even if it was a genuine offer.

As uncomfortable as he was, Bucky didn't know how to answer that. "I thought you didn't have control over what happens to me after this," was the only retort he could come up with. And he didn't know what to think. Sure, Rumlow was advocating for quite a bit more leniency than he was used to with Hydra, but he was still advocating for Bucky to be controlled and wiped, even if the mind wipes weten't supposed to hurt anymore.

A determined look had graced Rumlow's face. "Like I've said, you've grown on me some. _**Some**_ ," he emphasized, but Bucky secretly still believed it was more. "I didn't become your commander to loose that control over you when you get a new handlers. Yeah, I may have no choice when it actually happens, but I'm going to fight very hard to be your commander when you're given your new handler. I'd like to continue to work with you, and it will be easier to protect you on a number of levels if I'm at least in a position of authority over you."

"And if you're removed as commander then and I'm forced to kill you?" Bucky chanced a look at Brock.

To his surprise, Brock shrugged. "What happens, happens. Come what may. I'll try to be your advocate. After all, Hydra is your family, right?" And Brock gave a little smile.

Truth be told, Bucky was touched that Rumlow was willing to defy Hydra to give him a bit more rights. He wasn't sure that it would work, but the fact that Rumlow was willing to try was compelling. And briefly, in the back of Bucky's mind, he wondered if he did have a trauma bond to Rumlow. But just as quickly, he cast the thought off, not willing to accept that such a thing was reality. 'Rumlow is my kidnapper and slave owner in the end,' he reasoned with himself, but that didn't take away the gratitude, nor could Bucky deny the fact that he felt some thankfullness at the risk Rumlow was taking for him.

That didn't make Bucky feel better, though. And Rumlow, being as unusually perceptive with him as usual, glanced over at him, (even in his days with Hydra, Bucky vaguely remembered that Rumlow was very perceptive with him). His expression softened. "Is there something you want to ask?" He queued Bucky, and the Asset shifted uncomfortably, especially at how gracious his commander was being.

He wasn't sure how to phrase the question, but Rumlow was patient. Bucky opened his mouth and no sound came out. So he closed it again and tried to organize his thoughts, even the unpleasant bits that he tried to deny. "Do I..." he began, not sure how to continue. He fidgeted, but still Rumlow remained patient as he piloted the craft. He decided to phrase it in a manner that wouldn't admit or confess that anything was true. "Sam mentioned... trauma bonding... and Stockholm Syndrom?"

He looked over at Rumlow and Brock glanced at him. Then a thoughtful look was on his face. "Yes, I know what those are," he murmured softly, assuming that that was Bucky's question.

"In detail?" Bucky asked.

To his surprise, Rumlow grimaced. "Hydra forced me to take psychology in a college at one point," he admitted as if it was a distastful subject that he hated. "I passed as required, but I never liked the course," he admitted, glancing at Bucky once more. "But yes, I know very much in detail what that is."

And now Bucky was curious. "Why would Hydra require you to take psychology?"

He could tell that Rumlow didn't like the question. "Don't ask," was his gruff answer. And he knew that Rumlow _**really**_ didn't like the subject at this. So, unable to ask, he put on his best pleading face. As Brock glanced over and saw it, he sighed and his expression softened. "You won't like the answer."

Bucky came to a conclusion. "It was because of me."

"We had to know how to break you for training purposes," was all Brock would say on the subject. And then the man closed off once more.

Bucky was silent for a few minutes. Finally, Brock brought up softly, gently, encouragingly, "But that's not what you're after, is it?"

Bucky shifted uncomfortably. "I was wondering..." he began, unable to continue. But he summoned up his courage and continued, still unwilling to admit to anything, regardless. "I was wondering... how true is Sam's observation? Did... Did I ever have a trauma bond or... or Stockholm Syndrome to anyone in Hydra?"

"So that's what you're after," Rumlow whispered, surprise in his face. And Bucky knew as Rumlow looked at him that the man saw how much this comment from Sam was bothering him.

Rumlow was thoughtful after this, as if thinking back if that could possibly be. "I don't think you ever had Stockholm Syndrome," he finally answered. "At least never when I was there. But trauma bonding?" And a perplexed expression was on Rumlow's face. The man then shook his head as if it trying to clear his head. "The kind of bond you have to your handlers doesn't even come close to trauma bonding or Stockholm Syndrome. It is much different.

"Trauma bonding and Stockholm Syndrome come from traumatic situations, it's true, which you have experienced. But they more develop of their own accord. Bonding to a handler happens at the new handler to be's initiative after the death of the old handler, and is not a bond that happens in a relationship of sorts, though it does govern and set the relation between the Asset and his handler, and anyone the handler designates in a position of authority over him as a result of his bond to the handler. It's more of a connection of life, where their very lives are connected, at least from what I understand. So not really a relationship but a life connection.

"But trauma bonding?"

Rumlow was very silent after this. But he was also very thoughtful from what Bucky could tell. Bucky didn't push him. The exlplanation on his bond to his handlers, which he still didn't really understand, was disturbing him.

Finally, Rumlow seemed to have an answer. "I don't think that ever really occured, probably because there wasn't enough time between freezing you and unfreezing you, nor was their enough prolonged contact, except possibly once. **_Possibly_**. And that was to one of your trainers, back when Mitchel was your commander. That was the longest you'd ever been out of cryo, you see.

"He was a pretty cruel trainer, as far as trainers go. Even I was disgusted with him. But you seemed to admire him, even though he was the harshest with you, even though you weren't supposed to have feelings, weren't supposed to be attached to anyone but your handler. That must be why Pierce didn't like him, but he couldn't remove him for political reasons.

"Pierce was very protective and possessive with you. If I understand your bonding to your handler correctly, he would have known your attachment to him when no one else did, even if you didn't understand it or say anything. And the handler/commander programming ensured that you couldn't have any bond to your commanders, until the death of the old handler and they became your handler.

"But I think it is possible, thinking back on your behavior and Pierce's manner towards him that you **_may_** have had a trauma bond to him. _**May**_. But he isn't alive anymore, so don't worry about it."

Bucky was satisfied with the answer he recieved. While it wasn't a possitive conclusive answwer that a trauma bond had never happened in the past, it was still an answer. And since he couldn't remember it, let alone the man Rumlow was talking about, he had no way of knowing. But he was still curious. "Do you think... you and me?"

Surprise once again graced Rumlow's features. "A trauma bond," he contemplated. It took a few minutes. Finally he answered, "No, I don't think so."

"But you weren't my commander until now," Bucky pointed out.

"Still no," Rumlow concluded. "Remembering your behavior, it doesn't fit. You were never attached to me like that. And Pierce would have known if you were, and chances are, knowing him, he would have disliked me if that were the case."

"Even now?" Bucky dared, still puzzled at Sam's comment.

Brock huffed a laugh. "Goodness, no! Your behavior doesn't even fit it! Besided, like I said, it's impossible to have any bond to your commander, the programming prevents it."

"The programming's not really working," Bucky grumbled.

"But it is," was Rumlow's reply, and the air became chilly, causing a shiver down Bucky's spine. And it still didn't explain his minor gratitude to Rumlow, unless that wasn't an attachment per se, but just a result of the stressful situation. And with that, Bucky concluded that he didn't have a trauma bond.

"If it were a trauma bond," Rumlow informed him, confirming his conclusion. "You would desire to be with me and you wouldn't be giving me any problems going back to Hydra. But you don't want to be here, do you?"

Bucky vehemently shook his head, causing Rumlow to bark a laugh. "That's what I thought!"

An unusual silence followed, Bucky being thoughtful and Rumlow returning to his solemn demeanor. But finally Rumlow broke the silence. "We're going to be stopping somewhere again. We've got to change quinjets with one of Hydra's. I don't trust the Avengers not to be able to track us."

And suddenly Bucky was colder than winter as he shivered, fear gripping him. He swallowed in anxiety, desperately trying to numb his feelings and expectations of what was to come.

Brock looked over. "Are you afraid?" he asked gently.

"Yes," Bucky meekly replied, not really looking forward to his fate.

Brock's eyes softened. "Don't be. Like I said, I won't let anything bad happen to you."

And Bucky couldn't help his response.

"You already have."

(Steve Point of View)

It was a while before Steve stopped crying. But when he did, all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and shrink himself into an infinitely small size.

"Steve," he heard Natasha's voice next to him. So caught up was he in his little pity party that he hadn't heard her kneel next to him, grass making a crunching noise underneath her feet. He visibly relaxed as her presence stayed near him. "Bucky is alive. Regardless of what happened, he's alive and that means we have a chance to rescue him."

It took a lot, but Steve finally looked up to her. "Have I failed him?" he asked in such a heartbroken and terrifyingly grieving tone that he saw Natasha's face break before him.

A wry smile was then on her face. "If you don't go after him, you have."

Steve sighed, physically exhausted for the first time in a long while, the sleepiness clear down to his bones. He ached everywhere from the grief and he ignored the slight chill that was only inside him as he worked to compose his features. Nat was right. Bucky was alive and he needed him.

Walking to the tree, Steve pulled his shield out of it with a hard yank. But for the first time he was at loss of what to do because Rumlow had taken their only way out of country. He really didn't want to lead anymore. He was too tired. Bucky's need was the only thing keeping him going.

But as he turned back to his comrades, they looking at him for further instructions, his face was uncertain. "Now what?" he asked, no emotion in his tone from the pain of it all.

Looking at each other, they turned back to Steve. "Your call, Cap. You're our leader," was Sam's reply. "But I would recommend that we find another ride out of here, or we'll never catch up to Bucky."

This seemed to put Steve on the right track. "Right. Nat, I'm going to need you to get a quinjet for us. Clint," he paused, but kept his face neutral. They needed to work together, for Bucky's sake. Besides, Clint wouldn't be near Bucky to cause more harm. "If you can, please get T'challa on the phone. They have sophisticated technology which might be able to track Bucky. We need to triangulate and work together. And Sam?"

"Yes?" Sam offered.

Steve cringed, upset about what he had to do. "Unfortunately, this needs to be a manhunt in as many nations as possible. We can't afford to hold back with Bucky's life on the line. I want you to work with the FBI, the CIA, everyone and every resource in every country that we can. Rumlow took a quinjet and that means he can take Bucky anywhere in the world. So that means that we need access to every nation in the world.

"Put Bucky's name and face out there. A detailed summary. People know what he looks like, but we need to attract attention. I want missing and kidnapped posters of Bucky in every nation, especially every big city. That way if someone sees him, they know to report him. That way they also know that he's not there willingly. They need to know he's a hostage.

"We also need wanted posters of Rumlow. He's the last person to have contact with Bucky, and if they see him, they need to report him for questioning... even... even if he doesn't have Bucky any longer." That last part was hard to say.

It took him a bit, but he straightened up and continued his speech. "We need a warning out, something like an Amber alert. We need it in as many countries as possible, before... before Bucky disappears too much." It was really hard to say that last bit. But his mind taunted him, telling him that Bucky was already gone, that he'd failed him. "Make this go viral on the news, on public radio, on social media, youtube, anything all over the whole world. Use what you've got. Because if someone knows where Bucky is, I want to know."

"He's not going to like this, having his face so public," Sam warned.

Steve was sad. "I know. But if it gets him back..." he stopped briefly, unsure how to go on. "I'll deal with the consequences between he and I later."

Steve was grim in assertment, and the rest of the crew couldn't help but shift uncomfortably. But they were quick to get on it. Sam, Clint, and Nat were already on their cell phones. With a sigh, Steve began moving back towards the car, and they all followed him without a second thought.

After the phone calls were over, and they'd all piled into the car the best that they could, silence reigned.

Nat was driving, Steve in the passenger seat beside the driver. His thoughts were on Bucky once more, wondering if there was anything they could do to find him. Bucky didn't have any trackers in his new arm, and it would have been disturbing to Steve to put them in anyways. But could the quinjet possibly be tracked?

Voicing his question, Natasha sighed. "That's one of the first things I did when you were crying, actually," she admitted. "But Rumlow appears to have disabled all the trackers on board. I could call Stark, see if there is anything he could do?"

Steve considered. While Tony had finally acknowledged that Bucky wasn't in control of his actions when he killed his parents, and while he was a bit more friendly to Bucky, having forgiven what wasn't his fault, things were still tense between Steve and Tony. They hadn't talked on anything but in a distant and awkard manner, and even then it was occassionally. It had been over a year and a half since he'd talked to Tony. In fact, Bucky, though suspicious of everyone but Steve, was on better terms with Tony than Steve himself. And Nat knew that.

Steve wasn't sure he was comfortable with this. But if it helped Bucky, it might be worth it.

"Yeah, go ahead," he gave his permission.

Nat used some communications aboard their vehicle, accessing it through the windshield of the car while she drove single handedly. As the windshield became the screen, all she had to do was bring up what looked like a phonebook of contacts, and type in Tony's name.

Immediately, ater taping on it, the word that said calling appeared with a dot, dot, dot after it. It took a while, but Tony finally answered.

Tony's voice was heard via the speakers of the car, causing Steve to jump. It had been unexpected. Technology was still surprising him, but since he'd lived in Stark tower before, perhaps he should have expected something like this.

"Hello?" Tony's voice was suspicious, as if they had called anonymously, and he'd been unable to track who was calling.

"Hey," Nat responded, and Tony was immediately friendly, causing Nat to smile.

"Hey there, spider. It's been too long."

"I know," Nat played along, but she was grimacing. "And I'm sorry to drop off and then call you like _**this**_ , but it's an emergency."

Tony was immediatley serious. "What happened?"

Natasha looked at Steve, and as she did so, she told Tony, "Bucky got kidnapped."

A stunned silence was on the other end before Tony exclaimed, "Bucky? Bucky Barnes, Bucky?"

"Yes, that's the one," Nat confirmed, her face now expressing no emotion.

There was a pause ln the other end. "How did that happen?" Tony mused in awe, as if the situation was unusual. "I mean, we're talking about _**Terminator**_ here!" Nat stayed silent as she left Tony to contemplate. "But that doesn't matter. What matters is getting him back. I assume Cap is with you?"

"Of course!" Steve exclaimed, feeling it should be obvious. "Where else would I be?"

"Where else indeed," Tony mused. Then he lapsed briefly into silence once more before getting into the matter. "I assumed you called me for a reason?"

Steve sighed, worry in his eyes. And yet he was surprised at how fluidly Tony was working with him. Maybe he should stop avoiding Tony and try to work things out after this. "Rumlow kidnapped Bucky," Steve admitted only to be interrupted by a shocked Tony. "Bucky was taken out of country illegally, and then he was kidnapped and sold to Hydra. We're here in Chile trying to track him, but we've had no success until we bumped into Rumlow who was holding Bucky hostage. He managed to take Bucky on our quinjet and then fly away."

"Rumlow?" Tony gasped in astonishment. "Rumlow? As in dead Rumlow? The one you blew up? The one there were rumors of people seeing after his death?"

"That's the one," Steve grimly admitted. "And by the way, those reprts weren't rumors. They were actually accurate."

"The guy has the nine lives of a cat," Tony retorted under his breath.

"Everybody knows that," Clint retorted under his breath. Steve pointedly chose to ignore him.

"And so what do you need?" Tony was back to the point.

Now Natasha chose to take over. "Rumlow took one of our quinjets. He has Bucky hostage in it. The trackers are disabled. I need you to see if you can track it."

Tony made a stressed noise over the speakers. "I'll see what I can do," he grimly responded. "But it's going to take some time. I might be able to do it under three hours. _**Might**_. But I'll need some time alone to concentrate so that I can do it. I take it you guys need a quinjet?"

"Yes, please!" was Steve's immediate reply.

Tony chuckled. "Always one for the old fashioned manners. I've sent a quinjet your way, piloted by Friday. It'll take time, probably about two hours, but then it should land in a location that you specify."

"There's a forest north of here," Nat supplied. Using her hands, she single handledly drove and monkeyed with the controls, sending the location to Tony.

There was a grunt on the other end. "The quinjet will be there soon." And with that, the line was cut.

Steve sighed, it was going to be a long wait.

(Bucky Point of View)

As Rumlow continued to take him further and further who knew where, Bucky remained silent but thougtful. Despite what happened earlier, Rumlow was still talking to him, imparting information to him, even if it wasn't very much.

Rumlow noticed the thoughtful look. "Something on your mind?" he asked, gentle in his tone, but also cautious.

Bucky didn't know how to phrase it. Finally, "Would you really have killed me?"

Now it was Rumlow's turn to be contemplative. "No," he finally admitted, and Bucky felt an internal sigh of relief escape him. "I merely needed to bluff our way out of there."

"And if it hadn't worked?"

"Still no," Rumlow answered immediately, glancing at him with a slight smile. Then the man sighed, frustration on his tone. "Dang it! You've grown on me too much, Barnes! You've made me go soft!"

Bucky dared a retort but it was put meekly and submissively, "No, I've taught you compassion."

Silence folled the air, Rumlow in shock, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Bucky felt tense and it was physically present in the atmosphere. For a moment, Bucky feared he had gone too far, and had ruined what little commaderie he'd gained with Rumlow. Then, just as suddenly, Rumlow began laughing.

He continued to laugh for quite some time, to Bucky's surprise. Bucky relaxed, and he felt the tension leave his shoulders.

"That you have, Barnes," Rumlow agreed. Then Rumlow's serious face was on again. He sighed. "I'll do what I can for you, like I've said. But it will also depend on how obedient you are to Hydra. I know you like to fight and resist, Barnes, but you _**can't**_ do that, not if I'm going to succeed."

A soft shiver went down Bucky's back. "How can I go back to Hydra willingly?" was all he could say. And Rumlow glanced at him.

"And there is where the problem lies," Rumlow whispered. "You're unwillingness."

Both were silent for a little bit, and Rumlow considered. But Bucky had to ask, "Will you use the programming on me? And how much of the programming is doubled, or with commands that overlap? They took the Russian commands out of my head, but you still apparently had other commands that did the exact same thing. Either that, or the commands weren't removed like we thought." Bucky frowned.

Rumlow was hesitant, but he finally admitted, "Hydra has _**tons**_ of commands in _**many** **different**_ languages in your head. Yes, they removed those paricular words, but it doesn't really matter in the end. All commands are duplicated with a different set of words at least twice, each in a different language. You may have lost those commands, but those weren't commander commands. One set the commander, with a handler's permission, can give out. The other only a commander can have.

"The other two commands that a commander possesses all stem from you having a handler, or in this case because of a deceased handler. Those can't be removed. But that Russian set wasn't a commander's command. That's why they could take it out. But Hydra always has backups with it's winter soldiers, especially their favorite and prized Asset - you. You were always the favorite.

"The handler knows all commands, but they don't need them, except to give to their commander."

Bucky was silent. "So in the end, I have no chance? In the end you will force me? Have I no chance at freedom?"

There was a big pause. "So resistant, are you? Can you not accept it? Why so unwilling? Why not change your mind? It will make everything easier for both of us." Bucky couldn't say anything and a sad demeanor came about him.

Things were now tense between them. But Bucky couldn't help it, and apparently, neither could Rumlow. "At least keep your mouth shut when we get there, then? And try not to resist or do anything that could be percieved as trouble? It will make everything go easier. It will mean less pain for you. I'm asking you for this, Barnes. The man who is going to be your handler is not a kind or sympathetic man. He views you as property, and he's going to be very harsh with you. He's not a very kind person. At least you can avoid a lot of pain by trying to be good."

Tears started flowing down Bucky's face again. He felt the quinjet going down. They were starting to descend in their flight. He figured they had about thirty minutes before they landed and Bucky was brought aboard a quinjet that was untrackable for certain. But he had a question he had to ask first.

"What do you view me as?"

Rumlow seemed puzzled and he cast a confused look at Bucky. "What do you mean?"

Bucky glanced nervously over despite the fact that he knew Rumlow would see his new tears. "Do you view me as property?" he asked.

This time, Rumlow was hesitant. He seemed uncertain and he sent a quick look at Bucky. "I don't know," he breathed. Stress was in the man's face. "I don't know anymore, truth be told. When I first met you, you weren't very human. But you seem to be acting human now, so that it's hard not to sympathise some with your plight. So whether you truly were human the whole time... I can't tell.

"Technically, yes, you're Hydra's property, our slave if you will. More acurately, you're the personally slave of your handler, and as a by product, Hydra's slave second. Since you don't have a handler, you belong to all of Hydra. Once you have a handler, you'll belong to him, and him alone, not to Hydra. You're used by Hydra, though. And because of your handler, Hydra has full use of you. You're only allowed to be inherited by a member of Hydra. After all, such an owner would more than likely do Hydra's will. But you'd belong to them after, no matter what.

"But like I said, despite being property, Hydra is your family. That's how it was meant to be.

"So what does that make you? I don't know when you put the technicalities aside. I guess that makes you family?" Rumlow gave a small smile at Bucky, and he didn't know how to return it. Rumlow seemed to be in some sort of turmoil when it came to him.

Bucky stayed silent the rest of the time.

(A few minutes have passed)

When they had landed, the first thing that Rumlow did, after getting out of his seat, was swing Bucky's seat around. "Up," he commanded, and Bucky, having no choice, complied. Rumlow placed a firm hand on the shoulder of his Winter Soldier and forced Bucky to walk with him to some crates were supplies were stored. For a moment, he searched through the contents, then satisfied that they had something that he wanted, he grunted. Then Rumlow took his hand off of Bucky's shoulder and dug through the crates. He pulled out a long winter parka that went clear to the floor and a fluffy hand warmer with velcro to undo the tube into a square bit of fluffy fabric.

"Be good," Rumlow commanded firmly, and when Bucky nodded reluctantly, Rumlow was satisfied. He unlocked the cuffs. Placing the coat on Bucky, he took Bucky's hands and cuffed them agian. Then he undid the velcro, placed the fur muffler over Bucky's hands and the chains, and velcroed it up again.

Bucky knew exactly what Rumlow was doing, he was concealing Bucky and the handcuffs so that Bucky looked like a normal person on the streets.

Next, Rumlow pulled out a hood and placed it on Bucky, then he pulled out a scarf and proceeded to wrap up Bucky's face to where only his eyes were showing, as if he were cold. If the weather was cold enough, which it probably was, no one would suspect a thing.

Satisfied, Rumlow grabbed his coat and proceeded to bundle himself up, concealing himself. Then he took his gun, put it in his coat pocked on the right side, but pointed it at Bucky none the less. Using one of his hands, he steered Bucky towards he exit. "And not a bit of trouble, got that?" Rumlow warned.

Bucky nodded, though he hated that he was forced to do so. "Not a sound," Rumlow ordered, and once more Bucky nodded. Slapping the button, the quinjet opened up to the view of a rooftop. They were clearly cloked, and Bucky couldn't help the feeling of worry that penetrated him. Jabbing him lightly, but not enough to hurt, Bucky proceeded forward, and Rumlow placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him. But Bucky was still well aware of the gun pointed at him.

They proceeded down some steps and then merged in with the crowd of busy husslers below. Bucky had no idea what city they were in as he didn't recognise it. But as the streets were crowded, Rumlow tightened his grip on him slightly, and he began leading Bucky to some less crowded areas.

Eventually they turned into an alley. There were nothing but the backs of the buildings and some trash cans. Through this alley, they emerged onto some less crowded streets. Rumlow looked around him as if trying to find his bearings. "It was around here somewhere."

In the disstance there were some shops, and Bucky saw a person slapping some posters on the wall. It looked as if he'd already put the posters on their end, for as Bucky looked at them, he wanted to gasp, but was unable to because of the programming.

The poster said: Missing - have you seen this man? Bucky's face was posted with his full name and nickname. 'Bucky Barnes was kidnapped on January 16 and was last seen held hostag in Chile. His kidnapper had access to a quinjet and he was forced aboard. If you know anything, please call the American FBI, but avoid interfering. Bucky may have a trauma bond and may be brainwashed.'

Bucky frowned at that last part. He didn't have a trauma bond.

The FBI number was listed, along with some other information. Steve Rogers was listed as a contact, though from viewing the number given, Bucky immediately knew it wasn't his personal number. Chances are, it was a number given so that any information on Bucky could be relayed to him without putting Steve in harm's way.

Next to Bucky's missing poster was a wanted poster. 'Wanted, Brock Rumlow. Known Hydra operative. He is wanted in the kidnapping of Bucky Barnes, if you have any information, or if you spot him, please call the American FBI. But avoid interfereing. He is very dangerous and has brainwashed someone with deadly skills.'

More information was given, and despite the parts they'd gotten wrong, Bucky couldn't help but feel somehope. Steve was still looking for him. He had to be, and knowing Steve he'd authorised this to be posted in as many places as possible in order to attract attention and get Bucky back.

Rumlow was muttering about layout changes when he turned to back to Bucky. Bucky turned to look at him and that's when Brock's eyes strayed to the missing and wanted posters.

A change in demeanor came over Rumlow. His eyes grew angry, and his fists tightened, causing Bucky to be cautious once more. Brock angrily tore the posers off of the wall and ditched them into the nearest trash can. Then he roughly grabbed Bucky and began shoving him forward again. Bucky obediently allowed himself to be led. Maybe help would come quickly.

"I hate Avengers!" Rumlow hissed, clearly in rage at the missing and wanted posters.

They went a few more blocks and got turned around a number of times before Brock finally found the cloked quinjet. As Bucky was shoved aboard and forced into the pilot's seat on the left, he couldn't help sending a pleading look Rumlow's way.

Brock sighed. "Sorry," he gruffly responded and went to shut the quinjet door. After that, Brock took off the cuffs and muffler briefly and removed Bucky's jacket and scarf, dumping it on some chairs on the back. Then he recuffed Bucky and looked him in the eyes. There was a gentleness in his eyes again and he was less rough with Bucky, being more careful as he pulled up the sleeves of the jacket and dress shirt up on the tuxedo. "Hold still," he murmured.

More medicine was injected, and Bucky winced a bit. But then it was over with. As Brock moved the pilot's seat facing forward, Bucky couldn't help casting a cautious look to Brock.

Brock lifted them off again. "You can talk now," he reassured Bucky.

Once more, Bucky felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. "Why are you doing this?" he mourned to Rumlow.

Rumlow sighed. "Not this again," Brock moaned. "Look, Barnes, this is just how it is, okay?"

Realising that he wasn't going to get anymore out of Brock, he decided with a different avenue. "What can I expect when we reach Hydra?" At this point he was resigned to his fate until he was rescued, if he was rescued before anything bad happened.

An unusual expression was on Rumlow. "I don't know," the man admitted. "I'm not in the leadership anymore, and so much has changed since Pierce..." Rumlow trailed off and Bucky didn't feel better with the answer.

It was at this point that Bucky chose to stay silent, and it remained that way for much of the flight.

(A little while later)

Some time into the flight, how much time, Bucky didn't know, but he began to feel woosy. His vision wasn't as crisp and clear as it should have been.

"I think I need to use the bathroom," he informed Rumlow.

"You should have gone before we left," Rumlow quipped.

Bucky cast a glance at Rumlow. "Go where?" he retorted. "The bushes? There was only city and even then I didn't have to go then."

His symptoms kept getting worse and this time Bucky felt sick to his stomach. Groaning, Brock realised what was happening and immediately comcern was on his face. Putting the quinjet on autopilot, he helped Bucky out of the copilot's seat and into one of the passengers seat. "You're going through withdrawl," his soft voice informed Bucky.

Bucky couldn't even say anything. He was so nautious and his consciousness was fading.

Next thing, Bucky knew, he threw up, luckily it was not all over Rumlow as his commander would have been displeased. And then he began convulsing.

Rumlow laid Bucky gently on the ground and put something under his head as he convulsed. Bucky began screeching like there was no tomorrow. As he began clenching and gasping, Rumlow must have noticed for a rag was placed in his mouth so that he didn't hurt himself too bad.

Rumlow was talking gently to him, reassuring him, but Bucky barely heard. He knew he was being held by Rumlow, and he felt fingers pressed into his good wrist, taking his pulse. He also felt a soft cloth and some ice being put on his forhead as he moaned. But it did little to alleviate the pain.

"Shhh," he heard Rumlow whisper to him at one point.

For how long this ordeal went for, he didn't know. Finally he was aware of nothing but the pain. He wasn't aware of his surroundings at all.

When Bucky finally came to, he was aware of Rumlow watching over him. Blinking, he groaned, and attempted to sit up, only to be pushed gently back down by Rumlow. The cloth that was placed on him fell off and Rumlow replaced it. It was slightly warm. Rumlow must have replaced it at some point. The ice pack was gone. "Rest now," Rumlow encouraged, and Bucky obeyed due to the programming. "You need some time to recuperate."

Bucky glanced at the empty pilot's seat. "How long?" he asked.

"How long until we get to Hydra?" Rumlow supplied, wiping his brow tenderly and gingerly. Bucky nodded. "A while," Rumlow admitted.

"And..." Bucky hesitated. "How long was I out for?"

"Over an hour and a half," Brock replied, his answer measured and careful. And that was when Bucky knew for certain that he cared.

"You do care," he murmured softly, a soft smile spread on his lips.

Brock froze as if caught. "In your dreams," Rumlow claimed weakly, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You try to act like you don't because you don't want people to know that you care about me," Bucky pushed further, wanting a reaction from his commander. To Bucky it was funny that the tough Hydra commander had taken to caring for him.

"I merely don't like seeing you suffer!" Rumlow replied indignantly as he were insulted.

"One and the same thing," Bucky supplied, then closed his eyes to rest.

There was a pause on the other end.

"Maybe," Rumlow finally admitted softly.

And Bucky heard.

(Steve Point of View)

By the time the quinjet landed, Steve was pacing so fast that everyone thought that Steve's legs would fall off. "Calm down," Natasha urged him at one point.

"Calm down?" Steve snarled. "My best friend has been kidnapped! And I'm supposed to calm down?!"

"You'll think better if you do," Sam folded his arms, trying to be therapeutic.

"Stark hasn't even found anything!" Steve exclaimed, worry clouding his features. The door to the quinjet opened and they all got aboard. "Plus, it doesn't help that you put out that Bucky has a trauma bond when he doesn't. Even Bucky said he didn't! He's going to hate me for that!"

Sam sighed, buckling in. Everyone but Steve was buckled in, but they lifted off anyways. Sam was sitting next to Steve, and Steve was sitting down despite not being buckled in.

"Look," Sam ground out. He paused for a moment, mouth agape, as if trying to figure out how to word things. "Bucky may not believe that he does, and I may not be a psychologist, but I have read enough about prisoners of war and encountered many that I'm fairly certain he does. Bucky is merely confused and in denial. Besides, he's spent enough time in captivity for a trauma bond to occur. That, and we don't know what Hydra has been doing to him while they've had him."

"Surviving," Steve answered definitely.

"The whole time?" Sam challenged. "I doubt it was that way the whole time. Besides, Bucky's been held prisoner before. He's more susceptible to it."

"No!" Steve exclaimed, denial in his face. And everyone understood. It was the last thing anyone wanted for Bucky.

"Steve," Natasha cautioned, casting a glance at Sam like she trusted his judgment in this manner. "We need to at least consider the possibility in order to help Bucky."

Tears were flowing down Steve's face, and for a while he said mothing. "Friday?" he finally asked, sounding weak.

"Yes, Captian Rogers?" the AI reported.

Steve was silent for a bit. Then he asked hesitantly, like he was afraid of the answer, tears running down his face, "Has... has Tony found anything yet?"

The AI was reluctant. "I'm afraid not," was the sound answer.

Steve put his head in his hands, the tears coming down faster.

"Hey," Natasha murmured who was sitting on his right, putting a soft hand on his shoulder. "We'll find him, I promise. But the last thing you need to do is break down when we're trying to find Bucky. Hydra will take advantage of that, and it may help them keep Bucky."

"What state will we find him in?" Steve mourned. Clint shifted uncomfortably at this.

"We're doing everything we can, Steve," Sam reassured him. "Have a little faith."

But Steve kept his silence, as if he couldn't quite do that.

(Bucky Point of View)

Rumlow had let Bucky rest on the passengers seats, sprawled out over them, instead of making him sit in the copilot's seat. In fact, Bucky was surprised when Rumlow had helped him into the seats, then proceeded to get a blanket, placing it softly over him. Then he'd even retrieved a pillow, proceeding to place it under him.

"You get some rest," Rumlow had then orderd him, returning to the pilot's seat.

"You do care!" Bucky called after him.

Rumlow pointedly ignored him, sitting down, monkeying with the controls.

"You do care!" Bucky called out again with a little laugh.

A frustrated groan was heard form Rumlow. "Stop that!" the man snapped at him, causing Bucky to chuckle again. Rumlow swivelled around to face him briefly. "Do I need to order your silence?" Bucky shut up immediately, no longer laughing, long faced, controlling himself. "That's what I thought, " Rumlow muttered, wheeling around to face the windshield again.

Things were quiet for a few minutes between Bucky and Rumlow. 'Why doesn't he want to admit it?' Bucky asked himself, wondering how the man could deny his emotions so much. In the end, Rumlow had a caring heart that he seemed to want to deny. But how to bring it out? It might be all Bucky could do to get free, to get Rumlow to have some mercy.

But as quickly as he thought it, Bucky was unable to proceed forward, stopped by his programming because of an earlier command Rumlow had given. He growled in frustration.

Rumlow had heard. "Is there something on your mind?" he asked, and Bucky could hear the concern.

Bucky had no choice but to answer. "A lot." Bucky admitted. "And I'm worried about Hydra."

Rumlow seemed thoughtful at this. "Anxiety?" he questioned.

"Yeah," Bucky responded in forlorn.

They we both silent. "What are you going to do to me when we get there?" Bucky decided to shift the conversation.

Rumlow sighed almost in exasperation. "I have to present you," the man admitted. "And we need the doctors to check you out, so I'll have to hand you over to them at some point." Bucky shivered. "Other than that, I'm not entirely sure what the sequence of events is going to be. Like I said, I'm not in the leadership anymore."

Bucky groaned, shifting in his seat some. It may not be safe to have no seatblet on, but right now he didn't feel in the mood to sit up straight. "How much longer do I have left until..." he trailed off, not wanting to voice the inevitable.

Rumlow was silent for a bit. "Not much longer," Brock admitted, and at that point Bucky's stomach clenched as they began decreasing altitude. "Probably about thirty minutes."

Silnce filled the room as Brock gave time for Bucky to process this, to accept the fact that he was going back to Hydra whether he wanted to or not. It wasn't a choice anymore.

About fifteen minutes passed in silence and during that time Bucky shifted some, attempting to get comfortable. But afterwords Rumlow began to give Bucky some instructions.

"You need to come up here and sit down and buckle in," he told Bucky, and the Asset reluctantly got up from his make shift bed and stomped over to the copilot's seat, sitting down and buckling himself in despite his chains. "Hey, none of that," Rumlow reprimanded lightly. Then Bucky's ears began feeling the shift of the drop in altitude. However, because of the serum, neither he nor Steve's ears popped anymore, adjusting to changes a lot faster and a lot easier.

As Bucky stared out the windshield, his stomach clenched as he saw what appeared to be a base hidden in a forest of trees below. As it was, an ordinary person would not have been able to spot it unless it were pointed out to them. But because Bucky was different, a super soldier, he was able to see it easily.

"Listen, when we get there, you're going to need to be silent," Brock instructed Bucky again. "Nobody is going to appreciate it if you talk. Silence is going to be expected of you, and trust me, they will reinforce it if they feel the need. So do everyone a favor and keep your mouth shut when we get there. There will be less pain that way.

"Also, you're going to be expected to be led quietly, wherever they take you. No resisting. If they want you to walk somewhere, then go wih them without causing troubles. And go quietly. Don't make a big fuss when you go with them. You'll only get punished that way. I'd rather avoid that, and I know that you do as well.

"If they ask you questions, answer completely openly and completely honestly. But be brief and quiet in your responses. If you answer in a bold or a loud manner, you'll also get punished for that. And answer **_only_** what they ask for. No more, no less.

"Also, no whining and complaining with your voice, whether or not you say anything. So no making noises."

Bucky gulped as he accepted all of the commands. He glanced nervously at Rumlow as his freedom was taken away from him step by step.

Brock glanced at him in compassion before continuing. "They're going to lay their hands on you," he warned Bucky. "Be prepared for that. And they'e not going to ask permission either. They're not even going to warn you. Don't say anything and don't make any noises. And don't resist or pull away from them, no matter what you feel. And try not to feel anything. It would be for the best and may help you cope."

"Are you going to allow all of this?" Bucky meekly asked, wondering why this had to happen once more.

Brock sighed and put a hand to his head, then shook his head before descending them further. "We've been over this already, Barnes. And that's the last time you're going to hear your name. Nobody is going to be allowed to address you by your name anymore, not even me."

"But-" Bucky protested.

"Bucky, hey!" Rumlow corrected in a gentle manner before grimacing. "I've got to get out of that habit," the man muttered to himself. Then his attention was back on Bucky once more. "I know that you're scared and nervous, but it's going to be okay."

"No it won't be!" Bucky shouted with a cry, tears going down his face. He so didn't want to go back.

Brock was silent for a minute. "Take a deep breath," he finally ordered. Bucky obeyed. "Again," he commanded before giving Bucky a compassionate glance. "And keep doing it until you're calm." When Bucky had finally calmed down some, he sighed. "Try to be calm. It will help you get through this ordeal, okay?"

Bucky nodded, having no choice but to do so.

The rest of the flght was spent in silence as they descended. Bucky's chains on his wrists clicked as he tried to get comfortable.

Finally, they landed. As Brock taxied in to the hanger and parked the plane, both let out a sigh. Then Brock got out of his seat, indicating that Bucky should do the same. "Let's get this show in the road," was Rumlow's grim comment.

He motioned Bucky over to the boxes of crates. Once they were there, Rumlow proceeded to search Bucky for weapons, even though both knew that Bucky didn't have any. "Just in case," was all Rumlow would say.

Bucky was deeply disappointed when Crossbones pulled out an extra set of chains out of the crates. He proceeded to shackle Bucky's ankles before putting the spare cuffs on Bucky's wrists which rested alongside the cuffs on the that were originally put on. Now he was doubly cuffed.

The material of the shackles and cuffs was too strong for him to break. That Bucky knew as he felt the material sharp and cold against him, even though he couldn't disobey Rumlow and attempt to break out of them.

Bucky gazed nervoulsy at Rumlow, and Rumlow put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We good?" he asked.

Bucky nodded reluctantly.

As Rumlow proceeded to guide him to the entrance, then opened the quinjet doors on the back, Bucky's eyes widened as he saw all the guns pointed at him. There was an army of people there.

Rumlow's hand was still on his shoulder, and he gave him a gentle squeese before guiding him out into the midst of the armored people. Bucky gazed at them nervously. They were also apprehensive of him.

Only one man was in a suit. He was a younger gentleman, younger than Rumlow, and he had blonde hair and blue eyes, a medium built figure of caucasian decent. But it looked like there was some Asian and Latino mix in him. He nodded towards Rumlow. Delight was also in his eyes as he looked at Bucky.

"I see you brought the Asset back!" the man in the suit addressed Rumlow. Brock nodded. Then the man in the suit made a big deal out of looking around Rumlow. "But where is the rest of your team that we sent with you to aid in the Asset's capture and purchase?"

Something else was in his tone, and Bucky noted that Rumlow was tense. "That can be discussed later," Rumlow none the less replied evenly and firmly, no wavering in his terse tone.

"Ah yes," the man was disappointed. He turned around and as the group began moving further into the facility, Bucky was tugged along, guided by Rumlow. As they walked, Rumlow let go of him briefly in order to put a blindfold on him and a bag over his face for extra security. Bucky shuddered. Then he guided him with a hand on his shoulder again.

Bucky never lost track of the distance, turns, slopes, and stairs they went down, his training kicking in despite his nerves. The loss of sight was still anxiety producing, though.

Finally, they stopped near what Bucky sensed was a doorway and Rumlow took off the bag and blindfold.

Bucky froze at the scene before him, his body going rigid. In the doorway, half of the squad that had escorted him was already in the maintenance room, the other half behind them. And there, easily seen in the doorway, was that hated chair, the one that took his memories. The black metal looked menacing and chilling, and Bucky couldn't help it as he started shaking, his eyes wide with fear, his expression fearful and devastated.

Glancing back at Rumlow for reassurance, he noticed to his disappointment that Rumlow's face was carefully schooled, showing no emotion, not even compassion like he had earlier. And Rumlow gently nudged him in the doorway. "Go on," he firmly ordered, and Bucky had no choice to obey and walk and sit in the chair due to the programming. But he also noticed that their exchange was being watched and scrutinised with careful eyes.

Bucky gulped as he walked over to the chair and sat down, unable to give a blank expression. Several of the guards stepped up and first undid the shackles on his ankles, then they shackled his feet to the chair. Bucky trembled, staring straight ahead at nothing in an attempt to cope. They undid the other sets of restraints on his wrists and proceeded to shackle his wrists to the chair. Bucky so wanted to moan from the fear but was unable to because of Rumlow's orders.

Doctors began surrounding Bucky and he shivered more in fear, watching them carefully. They put a blood pressure cuff on him, several probes and wires, and the computer monitors came alive.

The man in the suit was watching Bucky in interest. He shook his head in disappointment. "Tsk, tsk tsk. So much breakdown." As Bucky glanced at Rumlow he saw that the man held no emotion in his demeanor.

A medical table was wheeled over, and to Bucky's fear, there was a bite guard on that table. He knew exactly what that entailed. He gulped and looked at the other stuff on the table. A medical cloth was underneath the bite guard and instruments. Also on the table was a line for an IV bag of what appeared to saline, and a needle to insert the IV. Needles filled with medication and capped with purple were also on the table. They were in various sizes, and some were fairly big needles with fairly big heads, making Bucky shudder. Those were going to hurt.

Bucky watched the doctors as they hustled and bustled around him. Some were at the computers, monkeying with the controls. Others had moved away to another tray in the far corner of the room not wheeled over. These were measuring out medication into needles bigger than what lay on the table wheeled over. Bucky sincerely hoped they stuck those in the IV bag instead of in him and he trembled more.

Suddenly a man in a black three piece business suit walked in. He was of medium build, clean shaven, and red haired. Everyone stood at attention when they saw him and Rumlow had the nerve to look apprenhensive.

The man looked at Bucky and let out such a horrid and lustful to see him suffer smile that Bucky cowered against the chair. "Ah, my new Asset, I am to be your new handler." He grinned further.

The new to be handler spread his arms wide.

"Welcome home, Asset!"

 **Please review.**

 **Yeah, we're getting near the end. There will be a sequel to this story though that continues on with the story. So be looking forward to that. There's more adventure to come.**


	7. Chapter 7: Stress and Anxiety

**I don't own Captain America.**

Chapter Seven: Stress and Anxiety

(Bucky Point of View)

Bucky was afraid, terribly, terribly afraid. The man in the three piece business suit gave a him another eager to see him harmed grin before turning away from him and Bucky couldn't help but look to Rumlow for support only to find none. Rumlow wasn't even looking at him. He wanted to whimper badly, but the programming prevented him. Rumlow's commands stuck. He had no choice but to be quiet.

Meanwhile, the new handler to be started circling the chair and all the doctors moved away to give him room. The man looked him up and down, scrutinizing him, and Bucky was frozen with fear. He stared back with wide terrified eyes, watching the man carefully. Then, just as suddenly, the new handler to be grabbed his chin roughly. Bucky trembled and a grin split on the man's face.

"Scared, are you?" he whispered to his Asset, something menacing hidden in his tone. Then the man lightly patted Bucky's head like it was all right. "That's all right. We'll fix you. You'll be good as new, perhaps even better than before."

With a chuckle, the man stepped back and snapped his hands. Immediately the doctors surrounded Bucky again and were back to their original stations.

"Examine the Asset," the new to be handler snarled and the doctors nodded their heads.

It was at this moment that Rumlow unhelpfully piped up, "The Asset was shot several times in our ordeal."

"Yes," the new to be handler turned to Rumlow with a disapproving look, and the doctors did nothing as they waited to see how this scenario would play out. "We need to talk about that." Brock grimaced, but other than that he maintained his composure. There was no fear in his face, only reluctance.

The to be handler sneered. "And I suppose that you'll need to be examined as well? I suppose you were shot as well?" The new to be handler said this in a mocking tone and to Bucky widened his eyes as he realised that this had been going on between the two men for quite some time. If the new to be handler didn't like Rumlow that much, Bucky didn't understand why he let Brock stay, unless there was something else going on that he didn't realise. That must mean for some reason that he couldn't let Rumlow go.

Brock snorted at the man's comment with derision almost, surprising Bucky. From what little he remembered of Hydra and it's structure, that wouldn't be a wise move for a subordinate to make to his new handler who could set the Asset loose on him, unless he was able to get away with it for some reason. Even then, it wasn't a good move.

"I'm fine," Crossbones retorted dryly, and the man narrowed his eyes at the new to be handler. "I'd be more worried about the Asset."

The two men continued to stare at each other for some time, and Bucky wasn't sure what to make of either of them. What he was fairly sure of, though, was that both men were concealing their true feelings and reactions with a composed mask. He also wasn't sure of the meaning of Rumlow's thinly veiled threat, let alone what it meant. It must be something that was between the two men for it didn't seem like anyone else knew what to make of the interactions either, except for the man in the business suit who sneered at Rumoow as he watched Crossbones and the man in the three piece business suit. Everyone else just stood watching.

For a while they stared, and Bucky was sure his to be handler was going to correct Rumlow harshly considering his expression, but then the man merely narrowed his eyes and turned away. When he noticed that the doctors were just watching, anger clouded his gaze. "Well?!" the man snapped at them, causing the doctors to jump. "What are you all standing there for? Get to work!" He turned briefly back to Crossbones. "You heard the man. The Asset's been shot."

If Bucky had been able, he would have whimpered, for hands we all over him again. They cut off his tuxedo jacket and undid the buttons on his shirt, exposing his bare chest which no longer had scars. It had healed that fast. Steve's wounds healed faster.

The snap of gloves coming on could be heard and Bucky did his best to dissociate from the situation. A doctor with red hair and blue eyes grabbed him firmly on the shoulder and pressed him back into the chair. Shudders went down his spine as the other doctors, all wearing blue gloves, gingerly felt down his chest, trying to see if they could locate the bullet wounds. As far as Bucky knew, none of the doctors looking over him before bringing him to Hydra had tried to remove the bullets. He doubted Rumlow had either as Rumlow didn't have the medical know how. He would only have known how to bind the wound.

One of the doctors brought out what looked like a black iphone and began scanning his body with it, trying to find at least one of the many bullet wounds he had been graced with in this ordeal. He stopped near the sternum, and with a frown showed the scanner to his companions. One of the doctors began feeling around the area, and Bucky winced as the man began pressing harder to see if he could find the wound.

"Got it," the doctor grunted, and one of the doctors walked away. She went to one of the cabinets and brought down some medical equipment, as well as a large needle.

Tears began pouring down Bucky's face as the woman with long blonde hair wheeled the new medical equipment over. Scissors and needles were also on the table, as well as thread. This was just the first one of many wounds they would treat.

When one of the doctors held up the bite guard, Bucky's eyes widened. Having no choice, he obeyed and opened wide, but he was shivering from fear the full time.

For an instant that was unnoticed by all but Bucky, Bucky was sure that something had stirred inside Rumlow. But then the man had composed his face again. "Are you not going to knock the Asset out?" he inquired, turning to the new to be handler. He was apprenhensive, tense.

The to be handler shrugged, "No need." Rumlow snorted. "Got something to say?" the man snapped. "Do his screams bother you that much Rumlow?"

"What _**bothers**_ me," Rumlow sharply retorted back, facing the man with arms crossed. "Is your suicidal attempt to get us all killed. Or did you not read the files about his notorious killing sprees?"

Fear spread in the room and several of the doctors shuddered. Regardless, they all stopped, which Bucky was greatful for. And it was in that instant that Bucky saw what Rumlow was doing. He was fulfilling his promise subtilly to bring Bucky less pain, to have him knocked in out during his ordeals. Bucky had to admit, it was clever the way Brock had worded things, shifting the blame back on his handler to be. Bucky never knew that Rumlow could be sly with his lips. But it was risky all the same.

And Crossbones was risking it for him.

The doctors were stood watching, eyeing Bucky nervously. Evidently some of them had read about his killing sprees in Hydra.

To his credit, the new to be handler shifted uncomfortably. "He's restrained, so does it really matter?" the man growled to Rumlow.

And Rumlow swiftly snorted. "Clearly you've never worked with the Asset before. Those restraints won't hold him. No restraints will, really." Bucky didn't remember enough to know if it was true or not. The doctors never said anything, never having worked with him before; all the doctors that had ever worked with him were now dead.

And the future handler seemed to consider, hand on his chin. Finally he muttered under his breath, "It won't matter once I'm handler."

Rumlow rolled his eyes. "Maybe not for you, but for the rest of us it will."

The man growled. "Fine!" the man snapped, turning back to his doctors. And Bucky couldn't help but notice his impatience even with his own medical staff. "Give it a painkiller!"

"There isn't one strong enough," one of the doctors cautioned, and Bucky's eyes widened in fear.

"Then double it!"

"That won't be safe!" another cautioned.

"I don't care!"

The medical staff sighed and a needle was prepared with double the dose. Rumlow hadn't accomplished what he'd hoped to, but at least Bucky's suffering wouldn't be as bad.

"Yes," Rumlow sarcastically said under his breath. "Kill us all while you're at it! Or you may have just killed our Asset in which case we may as well kiss our hopes for world domination goodbye."

"Rumlow!" the future handler snapped. Brock merely rolled his eyes.

A doctor walked over and took a big needle out of the cabinet. Due to it's immense size, Bucky's eyes widened in fear. A large dose was sucked into it, and the black haired doctor walked over.

The rest of the doctors resorted to restraining the wide eyed Bucky who shuddered as the medication was injected, and he felt rather tipsy. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his head, and he felt nauseated and faintish from the large dose.

Immediately, the crew set to work and the surgery began. A careful incision was made all the while Bucky shuddered from the large dose of medication. Pain seared through him, and he bit down hard into his bite guard. But it was not as bad as it could have been and Bucky could tell that the medication was working.

His face winced from the pain and he couldn't help the groan from escaping him. Evidently, though Rumlow had ordered him silent when in pain, even when whining with his voice, the programming had begun to deteriorate slightly again, but only just. It still remained in force for the most part.

But because he was only groaning from the pain, Bucky wasn't able to see Rumlow's fearful and concerned expression as the man saw that the programming was going away some. It would need to be reinforced again. But if anyone had noticed they didn't say anthing. However, despite being tipsy, Bucky could tell it wasn't Bucky Rumlow was afraid of. Rather he was afraid _**for**_ Bucky. To anyone else he would have looked afraid of Bucky, only going to vouch for Rumlow's genuine response to the future handler.

As they moved the medical equipment inside him, trying to get the bullet out, Bucky groaned more, tears coming down his face rapidly. His head rolled in his head, and he began panting heavily, biting down on the bite guard even more. Then they moved to the other bullet wounds in his chest. As they finished those, they moved onto the lone bullet wound on his shoulder.

Bucky began crying out more on that one, screaming lightly, and more pain medication was injected as he began shivering. Bucky sensed the doctors pause as they waited to see what he would do, whether he would go on a rampage or not. They were afraid of him. Then they moved onto the bullet wounds on his arms.

Bucky was exhausted and panting heavily by the time they were done with him. Groaning, he rolled his head back, body weak from the suffering he had endured.

Fresh gauze was placed on his now healing wounds. They didn't even bother stiching him up because they knew with his enhanced healing rate that it would be better to leave the wounds be now. He wouldn't even have a scar after the surgeries.

Bucky felt violated. He hated the fact that these people put their hands all over him, performed surgeries on him, without his permission. Steve never did this to him. He always asked permission when medical things needed to be done, despite being his guardian. And Steve and his friends never put their hands on him except with permission. Not were they ever harsh or invasive with their hands.

But what bothered Bucky even more was these people called him an it, treated him like property, amd acted as if they didn't need permission to be invassive, to examine him and do surgical procedures on him. They just did it. He was never asked nor given the opportunity to say yes or no.

He hated how forceful they were, and it terrified him. It was so violating. And he felt vulnerable, especially exposed with his shirt open after the surgeries, guns pointed at him. He had no armor to protect him. And he still felt their hands all over him, examining him, performing the surgeries, even though they weren't touching him right now.

Bucky's eyes were hazy as he gazed back at Rumlow. But Rumlow wasn't even looking at him.

Bucky's future handler was watching Bucky cautiously. But there was also an air of thought about him and he had his hand on his chin, critical as he eyed Bucky. "He hasn't even tried to make a break for it yet."

"Don't count your horses yet, Striker," Rumlow snorted, derision in his tone. "He's unpredictable. He was unpredictable the whole time."

Striker's eyes hardened as he turned back to Rumlow, and he had a very dangerous edge in his look. It was enough to make Bucky concerned for Rumlow, but Rumlow didn't even seem fazed. "I overheard that you mentioned to Manning that the rest of your team didn't return?"

There was a hard edge to Striker's voice as he nodded to the only other guy in a business suit, the guy who must have been Manning. Manning gave a sneer in Brock's direction, and he seemed to be enjoying having Rumlow in a heap of trouble with Striker. Striker exchanged a sly smile with Manning, both enjoying putting Brock on the spot and forcing him to answer for himself. Clearly Manning was on Striker's side.

Discomfort was on Rumlow's face, and Bucky could feel the tension of the room. He wanted more than nothing but to help his commander who had been the kindest person to him out of all of Hydra. And his back was aching.

Bucky squirmed around him in his seat to get more comfortable, causing the doctors to jump back and fear, and the guns of the guards to be pointed at him. Everyone froze, and both Rumlow and Striker turned to look at Bucky. But Manning had the nerves to look terrified. Bucky would have grinned if he could have.

"Easy, Asset," Rumlow corrected firmly, and Bucky gave Rumlow an upset and pouting look with his eyes. Rumlow chose to ignore him.

But Rumlow's interactions with Bucky seemed to have alerted Striker. The man turned to him, displeasure on his face. "I take it _**you're**_ his commander?" There was a hard edge to the man's tone. He was demanding an explanation.

Rumlow shrugged nonchalantly. "He wouldn't copperate. Pierce gave me the commands, so why not? It's not as if I have no right to. Besides, it's because I'm his commander that he's here right now."

"Humph!" Striker responded, displeasure still on his face from the fact. But Bucky could tell that Brock had made a legitimate claim that Striker didn't deny. But he seemed to still desire embarrassing and defaming Rumlow. "You still never answered me as to what happened. What happened back there? Where's your team?"

At this, Rumlow had the nerve to look apprehensive. "There were unintended complocations, sir," Rumlow reported. "I made them dock the price by fifteen percent for damaged goods, and we packed him up, ready to go. We were transporting him to one of our helecarriers when our vehicle was attacked. Everyone in the vehicles died, except me and the Asset. I had to set the Asset loose on the enemy. But when I made to contact our Quinjet, the enemy responded, so I assumed they had our quinjet in custody. So I remotely activated the self destruct on the quinjet to keep it any information from falling into enemy hands. Our Asset was also able to deal with most of them at that point. The rest he killed later."

Striker didn't seem impressed. "You're telling me that you lost your team in one round?" A mocking look was on his face. "Tsk, tsk, ts, Rumlow! You must have lost your touch! You have a record for preserving your teams intact, and yet you expect me to believe that you lost your team in one stroke?"

Rumlow bristled. Bucky could see where this was heading as everyone fidgeted in the room uncomfortably. Striker was trying to not just defame Rumlow but create a reason for people to question his loyalty. If Striker could get Rumlow convicted a traitor to Hydra, Bucky had no doubt Brock would be executed, and Bucky would be out an ally or anyone who was trying to give him sympathy.

"I did the best I could!" Rumlow snapped. "They came upon us suddenly! We weren't expecting it! They had technology to cloke themsleves, technology our Asset disabled!"

"Sir," one of the doctors piped up, and Striker turned to the man reluctantly. "Rumlow has a history of giving his best for Hydra. He even came back to Hydra. He hasn't caused any problems for Hydra ever since. In fact, it's because of him that we were able to recover our lost tech in Moscow, and because of him that we have the Asset. If he were truly a traitor, why not keep the Asset for himself? He wouldn't have brought the Asset home. But instead he continued to bring the Asset back despite loosing his team."

Striker had a scowl in his face. Even Bucky was surprised and Bucky could see now why Striker wasn't fully able to kick Rumlow out, and how Rumlow had been able to survive in a foreign Hydra for so long. Rumlow still had unspoken allies, or at the very least people who would speak upn for him and acknowledge him.

"Besides," one of the guards who had his gun still pointed at Bucky said. "It's not as if you've been out in the field before. In battle you loose people. It's unfortunate, but it happens, even to the best of us." The man cast a sympathetic look Rumlow's way.

Striker scowled once more. Even Manning looked disappointed. Bucky wasn't sure the reason, but he knew that Striker and Manning wanted to get rid of Rumlow. And Rumlow was the only person that came close to an ally for him in Hydra. He didn't want the mean Striker as his handler. He'd much rather have Rumlow, who might treat him better at the very least.

Striker sighed and snapped his fingers. One of his guards stepped up. He was a large man with cropped hair. "Go move my cargo in here," Striker grunted, and the man nodded, motioning to one of the other large guards. A minute later, Bucky watched as they wheeled in what looked like a mini high tech safe.

As Striker watched them wheel it in, he turned and gave Bucky a hungry grin causing Bucky to shudder. Even Rumlow looked uncomfortable. "Soon, soon," Striker mummured, and he stalked forward, grabbing Bucky rougly by the chin. "You'll be my slave soon. And when you are, we'll finally be able to solve this dispute of who leads Hydra." Bucky's eyes darted to Rumlow who had an upset and frustrated look on his face.

Seeing this, Striker frowned and used his hand to redirect Bucky's gaze to him. "Don't you know you're precious?" The man crooned, and gently stroked the side of his face. "You're precious to Hydra. Whoever owns you is the rightful leader of Hydra, after all."

Bucky's eyes widened and he trembled. Now some of the things Rumlow had said made more sense. And he slowly realised that Alexander Pierce and all his past handlers in Hydra were not just his handlers but the sole leaders of Hydra as well. It was no wonder Hydra wanted him back so badly. They needed him in order to have a leader and they needed him to solve a leadership dispute.

Nervous, Bucky tried to glance at Rumlow again. He really didn't want this cruel creepy man leader of Hydra or his handler. "So precious," Striker purred. He suddenly gripped his chin harshly, restraining Bucky back into the chair, the other hand reaching for one of the needles on the medical table.

Bucky's terrified eyes took one look at the large needle Striker was reaching for and he knew he had to do something because there was no way he was going to have that big, thick needle injected in him. And a glance at Rumlow and the man's composed face practically telling him not resist told him he wasn't going to get any help from the man. There was nothing Rumlow could do to keep him from being harmed by Striker.

Because of the programming, there was nothing Bucky could do to actually harm anyone there due to Rumlow's orders. For the most part, the programming was remaining intact, and it would remain intact for a good while longer, more than likely forever. But Bucky really didn't like the rough treatment, and while he knew he couldn't harm anyone, he was hoping to have success fighting back enough to at least scare the man. And he succeeded. As he made an aggressive lunge at the man, hoping to come off as aggressive, the guns snapped back in position among them and Striker jumped back in surprise, fear on his face for the forst time.

Brock was chuckling. "Told you he was dangerous." Amusement was in his eyes, and as Bucky glanced at him, he saw that his eyes twinkled.

Striker straightened his collar woth a scowl. "That thing needs to be reprimanded. Harshly." He began straightening his business suit, and he pulled the terrified Manning along. Snapping his fingers, he commanded, "Get that thing under control. And when you do, punish him."

Bucky glared back as Striker yanked Manning out, then his eyes turned fearfully to Rumlow who was in charge of him, afraid that his actions had cost Rumlow.

Rumlow wasn't looking at him. He was staring in disapproval at the door where Striker had left. Then he turned back to the docs and guards with a frustrated sigh. "Seriously? _**That's**_ to be the new leader of Hydra?"

"He is Pierce's heir," the guard who had defended Rumlow answered matter of factly.

Brock seemed frustrated. "The man is doing everything opposite of what Pierce wanted. He's gambling with Hydra's funds for his personal gain instead of forwarding Hydra's cause. Do you seriously want him as leader?"

Some of the personnel shifted around uncomfortable. "You're talking treason, Brock!" one of them said.

"I'm talking about the greater good of Hydra," Crossbones replied, folding his arms in dissatisfaction. "The leader is supposed to do what is best for Hydra, just like Pierce did. That man is not. In fact, he practically betrays everything Pierce and Hydra stands for."

"Maybe you've been gone from Hydra too long, for you've forgotten how to hold your tongue," the guard that defended Rumlow reprimanded him. "You talk about the greater good of Hydra? Do you think you could do better, especially since you're going against the order established? Pierce must have trusted Brad enough to make him leader. If you really cared and supported Pierce, who are you to go against Pierce's wishes on who the next leader of Hydra should be?"

Rumlow looked frustrated. "I have no idea what Pierce saw in him," Crossbones griped, pacing impatiently, back and forth. "And I would never do what he did!"

"Maybe, but Pierce chose him," was the response of the guard.

Rumlow snorted. "Funny, because Pierce never paid attention to him before. And now all of a sudden Striker is Pierce's heir?"

Everyone fidgetd uncomfortably. It was as if they didn't know what to say or how to answer it. "Well, Pierce was mysterious," one of the doctors, a woman commented.

And this elicited a roll of the eyes from Rumlow. "Clearly you didn't know Pierce very well. It's an unusual move for Pierce, to name Striker his heir."

Rumlow had a puzzled look on his face at this. And as Bucky thought back the best he could on what he remembered about his previous handler, he had to agree. It was odd for Pierce to name Striker, who he ignored to the point of not liking, his heir instead of Rumlow or Mitchel who he paid more attention to. It made Bucky wonder if Striker had threatened Pierce in some way to name Striker his handler.

And yet, if that had been the case, Pierce wouldn't have stood for it. He would have sicked Bucky on him. Pierce wasn't afraid of threats, though he was used to giving them. So why name Striker his heir?

"You left Hydra," the guard continued, frowning at Rumlow in disapproval. "Killed some of our own even. You're lucky you were let back in with us and weren't killed on the spot for treason." Rumlow sighed.

"Maybe," one of the doctors piped up. "Pierce had anticipated this? Maybe this is why Brad Striker is to be leader instead of you?"

Rumlow ran a hand through his short hair, burn face wincing. "I was lost for a little while," Brock admitted. "I wanted revenge because Rogers landed a building on my face. Then he has a nerve to use that **_Witch Girl_** to blow me up." Bucky trembled some, irritated and slightly angry. According to Steve, that's not what happened. But he doubted Brock saw it that way. And he hated the way Brock was talking about Wanda.

If Brock saw Bucky's frown, he ignored his expression. "I came back because I believe in Hydra, and what it stands for," Brock finally admitted, turning back to his comrades. "But when I came back... everything was so different. Striker's set up a Hydra that's so different, how can we even expect to accomplish our goals?"

The guard most vocal with him sighed. "I don't know what to tell you, Brock. But he's to be the new leader of Hydra. You're just going to have to accept that. You're just going to have to accept the changes. There's nothing we can do about it. Pierce decided it. His will and decision must be done. Even we've had to deal with difficult changes." And the Hydra guard cast an uncomfortable glance at the rest of his team. A few seemed okay with it, but most didn't seem too happy about the changes, Bucky realised.

"Yes, and a fine and dandy leader he'll make," Rumlow grumbled sarcastically. Then he turned on his heals and marched to the door.

The doctors gazed nervously at Bucky, clearly not wanting his commander out of the room. They wanted him nearby in case Crossbones had to control Bucky. "Wh-where are you going?" One of the docs piped up, fear in his entire body language.

Brock turned back briefly. "To take a brief rest. I've had a _**very**_ long day."

And with that, Brock stalked out of the room.

(A few hours later)

All the doctors and guards did was guard him. Apparently, nothing else had been approved by higher ups to do to him. So all anyone could do was wait, and all Bucky could do was maintain his nervous apprehension, waiting for his doom to come. In some ways, he wished it came sooner so that he didn't have to go through the whole trauma of waiting for it to happen. And meanwhile Bucky was stuck in an uncomfortable chair, the others chit chatting around him. The bite guard was painfully strapped to his mouth, his shirt still open from the procedures earlier.

The only redeeming quality of the situation was no one laid their hands on him. They were too nervous to do so, expecially without a commander present. No one talked to him either. And he still had the uncomfortsble bite guard in his mouth.

At one point he had spit it out when he realised that they weren't going to do anything to him for the time being. But he hadn't been orderd to give it up, so one of the guards picked it up then proceeded to slap him harshly, before putting the bite guard on the medical table.

The whole room stopped, everyone going nervous as they waited to see what Bucky would do. Bucky gave a menacing glare and starred back in challenge, unable to do anything more because of the stupid programming.

The tension was so great that there were whispers about getting his commander back in the room when the guard, the one that had conversed with Rumlow, growled at Bucky, "No!" He'd then proceeded to pick up the bite guard, jam it harshly and painfully into his mouth, eliciting a pained whimper from Bucky, then had pulled some duck tape out of his back pocket and proceeded to duck tape the bite guard somewhat semi-permanently to Bucky's face. Bucky had been unhappy about that.

For how many hours Bucky waited, the bite guard painfully strapped to him, Bucky didn't know. He'd barely gotten used to the pain after a few hours, his pleading looks doing nothing as everyone was choosing to ignore him, when Brock suddenly strode in, an unhappy look on his face.

"A problem?" one of the doctors asked in concern.

Brock grimmaced, "Never mind that. That can be addressed latter. We've got work on the Asset to do." As Bucky gazed at him, he saw that Brock was freshly shaved and showered, having changed into a black t-shirt and black combat pants. None the less his weapons holster was now visibly strapped to his hips, two guns on each side, weapons baton in his waist belt. He looked menacing. And Bucky couldn't help but wrinkle his nose as the sharp tang of his deodorant, stronger now because it was fresh, wafted over to him. It was fairly strong to his sensitive nose. No one else seemed to notice the smell of Brock's unique deodorant.

Bucky shivered, beggingly eyeing Brock. 'No!' Bucky begged with his eyes. 'No!' But Brock wasn't paying attention to him. In fact Bucky could tell that Brock was choosing to ignore him.

"We've been given the go ahead?" one of the doctors asked eagerly. Brock gave a firm nod of the head.

Immediately, the doctors were surrounding Bucky again, excitement in their demanor. And though the programming stayed in tact, Bucky was able to let out a soft whimper.

"Enough!" one of the doctors impatiently remprimanded Bucky as he moved medical equipment around, positioning it.

"You're to begin testing to see how long the drugs stay in his system," Brock announced then and everyone turned to stare at him incredulously. Bucky froze with fear. They we going to force him to go through another withdrawl again.

"What?!" one of he female doctors explained and Brock looked unhappy. "It's a waste of our time!"

"I know," Brock groaned, unhappy. "But Vincent ordered it."

Another doctor was tapping his foot impatiently. "Well, no offense, but Manning knows nothing about the Asset." Vincent. So that was Manning's first name.

Brock didn't appear any happier with someone echoing his thoughts. "Striker backed him," was all Brock would say, and all the doctors and half the guards groaned. The others appeared to be unfazed.

"A useless experiment," the doctors turned back to Bucky, who was now shivering from fear again and Brock started tapping his foot impatiently.

"It's a waste of precious resources," Brock growled aloud. "All for a useless little experiment to see how far we can physically push our Asset. We should be reprogramming him, not wasting time experimenting on him to reveal useless results on something we need no knowledge in. What a waste."

Bucky didn't know if he should be comforted that a lot of the people appeared to be in disagreement with Brad Striker. In fact, the man only appeared to be maintaining his position because he was Pierce's heir. If it were not for that, he would have had no support. Versues Brock Rumlow who seemed to have the mind of the majority in Hydra.

Rumlow was pacing around, frustrated. "I think the only reason they're doing this is because they want to get back at the Soldier for making a lunge at Striker. I did warn the man he's dangerous, but no, he doesn't want to take my advice. And then he and Vincent go and pull a stunt like this without taking into our account _**our** _ safety."

Even the Hydra guards seemed concerned with Brock's rambling. "Is there any way you could control the Asset if he tried anything?"

Brock snorted. "No. In fact the programming was failing and barely able to control him on the way over. It's only a matter of time before it fails completely."

Both Bucky and Rumlow knew that wasn't true. The commander's programming would stay intact, but the other programming would fail. But Bucky could see that Brock was making a political move in Hydra. For what reason, Bucky didn't know, and that made him nervous. But it was partially true to an extent. "We should be reprogramming him, not wasting time and precious resources while he continues to break his programming. In fact, this might push him all the way."

Bucky highly doubted that, and he knew Rumlow did too. Rumlow was just exaggerating the situation.

Brock was in a bad mood at this point. As he looked over and saw Bucky taped up, the bite guard in his mouth, he sighed. "Get that bite guard out of him," Rumlow ordered, rubbing his hand over his face. "Vincent wants his screams audible."

Truth be told, Bucky wasn't sure whether or not that was true, but he knew that Rumlow knew how uncomfortable the bite guard was for him. Then again, he wouldn't put it past Vincent and Brad to order such a thing with how cruel they were to him. None the less, the doctors didn't question, nor did the guards, and the doctors nervoulsy stepped up and obeyed Rumlow.

The doctors moved over to him, displeasure on their faces. Bucky tensed as they grabbed him harshly, then ripped the sleeve off of his right shirt up to his shoulder. He whimpered some as they took out a needle and a rubber tie, tied the band above his elbow, cleaned off the area inside his elbow, then proceeded to insert the pick line into him. The needle was then removed, the IV line still in him.

A bag of saline was inserted into the IV line, and he watched helplessly as medication after medication was injected.

He began feeling dizzy, and he groaned. Unable to sit upright anymore, he ended up slouching back into the chair, a highly uncomfortable position for him. It was at this point that Bucky vaguely felt them cleaning the outside of his biceps, and needle after needle of medication was injected into him. He groaned and winced, whimpering.

Mentally, Bucky was somewhat prepared for what was going to happen. But when it happened, it was harder to cope with than he had anticipated. It took only fifteen minutes for the maximum doses of the medications they had given him to go through him, and then he was going through withdrawl.

Bucky convulsed in the chair, shrieking. At some point the bite guard was reinserted, and Bucky clenched down hard, then he was lost in nothing but the pain for awile, completely unaware of his surroundings.

When he came to, he was achy all over. His vision was blurred, and every single touch hurt. A light was shined in his eyes making his head hurt worse and he was limp in the chair, the seat feeling so hard, feeling harder than before. He was so exhausted he was unable to even groan and wince, and he was panting heavily.

His body was sweaty. The doctors put a cool, wet towel on him as they clinically observed him. Light tears were pouring down his face. When it was deemed safe, they finally removed the bite guard, leaving him be.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to go to sleep at this point. He was so exhausted, and he just wanted to mentally escape his predicament for now, to worry about what was going to happen to him next later.

Closing his eyes, Bucky felt his consciousness fading. 'Please, please, Rumlow!' he begged in his mind. 'Don't do anymore, now! Just let me rest for now!'

It seemed that fortune was on his side for now for he closed his eyes and was able to fall asleep and get some rest in peace.

At some point as he was dreaming, and he wasn't sure if he'd imagined it, but he thought he felt someone stroke his forehead, tenderly, removing loose strands of his hair to the side of his face.

In sleep, Bucky felt at peace.

(A few hours later)

Time seemed to flow by in his dream state, but eventually, Bucky emerged from it. Blinking rapidly, he tried to adjust his quickly beating heart as he saw doctors working around him. It wasn't long before they noticed he was awake again, and they swarmed him. Bucky flinched away.

An IV was running through him, and the doctors removed it. Bucky tried to hold still as they did because he didn't want the tips of the needles breaking in him.

As his gaze wandered around the room, trying to distract himself, Bucky noticed Rumlow watching him carefully. As their eyes met, Rumlow narrowed his eyes, but there was no harshness in them. In fact his eyes were impassive, void of any emotion.

As Bucky was still a little over heated from his harsh ordeal, a cool wet cloth was placed on him. The doctors took his pulse, shined a flashlight in his eyes again, and checked his blood pressure.

Bucky did his best to stay calm, but he was still panicked. It was harsh on him. He tried to regulate his breathing, but he still couldn't help how tense he was.

Still, somehow Rumlow's presence put his mind somehwat at ease. He said that he was going to look out for Bucky, right?

As Bucky cast a longing and terrified look at Brock again, the doctors piped up, "Now that their little statement is done and the Asset appears to be recovedd, can we move on?" There was discontent in their tones from what they had been forced to do, a useless experiment in their idea.

Brock nodded, a bit more relaxed, and the doctors murmured excitedly. Bucky was sure he could hear them, but his mind couldn't process what they said. He was in panic mode and his eyes widened. But when Brock spoke, he registered the command and obeyed. "Easy, Soldier."

Bucky froze himself in place in an attempt to be obedient. He had no idea what was going to happen to him. But as he forced himself to stay calm, he began to hear the murmuring of the doctors. "...must complete the examination and the brain scans before we can even think about reprogramming him." He'd missed the first part of what they had said.

Bucky whimpered as the seat leaned back, and as they pushed him back against the seat. Now leaning back he could see the strange apparatus that would be used to wipe his mind. Panic flowed in his body and he whimpered.

"Easy, Soldier," Rumlow commanded. "It's not yet. They've got to do an examination first to make sure you're healthy enough to go through a mind wipe." His tone was firm, and Bucky glanced at Rumlow to get reassurance but found none. But as he thought on the words he wondered if this was Brock's subtle, twisted way of trying to comfort him without others knowing. His arms were crossed, and his face revealed nothing. Bucky tried his best to untense. Surely Rumlow would find a way to knock him out as promised?

One of the female doctors wheeled a machine over. "We can do the EKG first," she grumbled. She gave a nod of appreciation towards Rumlow. "Thank you for calming him. We need the Asset calm to do the test."

"In order to avoid unintended consequences," a male doctor added causing a brief fling of terror in Bucky's eyes as he wondered what the unintended consequences could be. Then again maybe he didn't want to know.

His eyes blurred briefly and as he wondered why he realised it was because there were tears in his eyes. He tried to shake his head to flick them away as he heard the doctors rustling with equipment.

Bucky gazed up and then he looked to his left to see the doctors undoing tangles of wires to attach to him. Finally, one of the white lab coated men with bow ties walked up to Bucky. He approached cautiously.

"Hold still," he heard Rumlow order, and Bucky knew he would have no choice but to hold still as his body automatically reacted to the command against his will.

His dress jacket had already been taken off in a procedure earlier, and his right sleeve ripped off during another so they could insert an IV in him. That IV was now out, and Bucky nervously watched the doctor to gauge him and see if he would react aggressively. Then, when the doctor was satisfied that Bucky couldn't harm hin, he proceeded to rip the remainder of his dress shirt off, discarding the contents into the trash.

Bucky shivered, having no shirt on, his bare chest completely exposed now. As multiple doctors surrounded him they began sticking pads to him, then attaching wires to the pads. The pads and wires were stuck all around his chest and abdomen. Bucky tried his hardest to breathe, but the situation was so stressful that he couldn't help the shivering.

Bucky was aware of a monitor going, and as some of the doctors watched him, others were looking at the ekg monitor. Bucky glanced over and saw the lines going up and down. Then he watched the doctors who had looks of complete contemplation on them.

"His heart is better than before," one of the doctors murmured in awe. "Even healthier before. Wonder why that is...?"

"Does it matter?" Rumlow grumbled, his expression harsh, but it softened some when he caught Bucky staring. No one noticed. The doctors didn't even glance over. Brock looked away from Bucky and his expression was harsh again. "What we need to know is if the wipe can be done."

The doctors seemed distracted briefly in awe, and they brought themselves out of their reveries before turning to Rumlow. "Well, his heart can withstand a wipe for sure, yes, but still, this is something that can be researched later."

"That can be discussed once the Asset is wiped and we are in full control of him," Rumlow ordered firmly and the doctors nodded. "Right now his programming is unstable so it would be pointless researching it. We desperately need to get him reprogrammed."

"Right," the same doctor responded.

The doctors stopped and began taking the wires and pads off of his chest and abdomen. Bucky stopped to take a deep breath and to try to calm himself down again.

Glancing at Rumlow for reassurance, to his enigma Rumlow decided to return his gaze this time. He had no idea why since Rumlow had seemed so intent on ignoring him before. He searched the man's gaze in hopes that the man would show some comfort and mercy.

Brock stared back, his expression well controlled. His arms had been crossed for some time now, and Bucky was beginning to wonder if the man was going to keep his arms crossed for hours more. That couldn't be very comfortable. 'Why?' Bucky seemed to ask with his gaze. 'Are you not going to knock me out as promised?'

His mesage must have been recieved for Rumlow turned away and decided to address the doctors. "Why was the IV taken out of the Asset?" Brock asked firmly and formally, but there was no unkindness in his voice.

One of the docs turned back to address him. Another of the guards yawned. "W-we don't need it anymore," one of the docs stuttered. "All we have left to do is the brain scan. Then, as long as we're given the the okay, we can do the mind wipe."

Bucky froze at this. He didn't to have that much time left to be himself. Terror filled him. He bit a lip in an effort to control his trembling.

Brock heaved a sigh. "You've never worked with the Soldier before, have you?" he demanded to know. Everyone shook their heads. Nodding, Brock muttered something under his breath that no one could hear. Then he ordered, "Get that IV back in. You're going to need it for the mind wipe. The Asset is unstable and has been working to break his programming. I don't trust him _**not** _ to break out when we go to wipe his mind. A lot of people could get killed if that happens."

Shivers of fear went down everyone's spine, and even a few of the guards shivered in fear. The doctors promptly put their blue gloves back on, and the next thing Bucky knew, an IV was being inserted again. Glancing at him nervously, Bucky stared back as menacingly as he could in order to back up what Rumlow was saying, and his own displeasure at being treated as a lab rat and an object. This elicited a fearful reaction from the doctors and the guards began stirring. Even Rumlow looked concerned.

"Easy, Soldier," Brock commanded. Then the man addressed his crew. "This is exactly why I want him _**completely**_ knocked out for the process. I don't want to risk him breaking out. He's not stable."

The doctors had stepped back when they noticed him getting aggressive, and Bucky watched as they slowly started returning to their former positions around hin, the guards on high alert now. An IV bag was set up, but they didn't alow it to flow into him yet. On the medical table neside the IV a large needle with a sedative was placed there.

One of the doctors turned to Rumlow. "You should know that this won't knock him completely out. Nothing will." Fear shown in Bucky's eyes as he rememberd this. But at least it would hopefully take the edge off and wouldn't be as painful. At least there was that mercy.

"I know that," Rumlow confirmed in frustration. "But I'm hoping it will give us the advantage to keep him contained and make it so that if he does manage to break out, at least we have a higher chance at containing him."

The docs nodded. "So this is dangerous either way?" the doc asked sarcastically.

Rumlow growled, "Very." The man then turned to the doctors. "Surely it can be combined with someing else to knock him out?"

The doc turned to the others in uncertainty. "Maybe?" He frowned. The doctors murumured. "We don't know. But even if we found something, it would probably be very dangerous, perhaps deadly."

At this, Rumlow seemed to consider. He studied Bucky with narrowed eyes, his expression calculating. But Bucky saw what no one else seemed to see. How he knew Rumlow so well, Bucky didn't know. For all he knew, it was because he had known Rumlow before and worked with him, and even though he didn't really consciously remember it, his subconscious remembered it.

Regardless, Bucky realised that for the first time ever, Rumlow was asking Bucky. He was asking for permission and seeing what Bucky wanted. But Brock was doing it subtilly and in a manner where no one knew he was catering to the Asset and what the Asset wanted. No one but Bucky and Rumlow would know what was going on.

The choice, go with just the sedative to mute the pain but feel the rest of the pain, an option that was safer, or take a risk which possibly involved his death, and go with a possibly volatile combination and see if that would mute the pain completely, even if it killed him, was difficult. But to Bucky the decision was obvious. He widened his eyes almost imperceptibly so no one would notice their communication. 'Yes, please! No pain!'

Brock turned away from him in fake annoyance, faking contemplation. After a few minutes, Brock made a 'decision'. "Best not to risk the Asset getting out. Knock him out completely."

Bucky was slightly relieved, but he remained tense so as not to arouse suspicion. But he was releived that Brock had respected his choice.

"Of course," the doctor nodded, as if Brock was doing what was best for Hydra. And in a way he was. Bucky had no handler to control him, and though a commander could usually wield a large amount of control over him that he could not fight against, that didn't mean that he couldn't cause problems. Perhaps he could break out of his bonds. Perhaps it was best for Hydra.

But Brock had to have the last say. "Just be careful and don't intentionally kill him. We still need the Soldier in order to accomplish our purposes."

"Of course," the doctors responded sarcastically this time. "We wouldn't intentionally kill him. We know he's a needful Asset."

Brock nodded in agknowledgement.

It was after this that they wheeled more specialised equipment over. They were vast machines with strong, hard metal, and Bucky's eyes widened as they began scanning him.

They positioned his head, his muscles tense. All Bucky could think about other than the monster machine, was that after this he would be gone, and there would be no coming back. And his nightmares would begin again. Vaguely, he wondered as his mind drowned out the murmuring of the scientists around him if Steve would be able to save him this time. Or would he be past the point of no return?

He felt a wetness on his cheeks. The scientists began listing off a checklist and all Bucky could do was look away from everyone and mourn. The countdown was beginning.

"And his brain is good!" a female scientist chirped eagerly. She scribbled on her clipboard, and the scientists began chattering as they looked toward Rumlow for approval who nodded.

Bucky gulped, tears streaming down his face. His pulse was taken and they were about to load medication into his IV to begin his mind wipe when suddenly Striker and Manning walked in, their suits pristine.

Everyone stood at attention, even Rumlow. Striker leveled a horrid grin at Bucky, causing him to shiver, and then Striker addressed the crowd. "Where are we at?"

One of the scientists stood taller and announced as if he were trying to be important, "We were just about to administer the first mind wipe, sir."

An eager, cruel smile lit both Striker and Manning's faces. Their whole bodies seemed to delight in this and Bucky got the sick feeling that both wanted to watch him suffer, as if it were an entertaining theatrical performance.

"Were you?" Striker asked eagrly, Bucky shivering. They probably wouldn't be too happy when they found out that Bucky wasn't even going to feel it, as far as he knew. But that didn't make the situation any less stressful or depressing for Bucky who was practically going to be killed so that something else could be installed. He was about to loose himself. He was frightened.

"Yes, sir," was the firm response.

Striker had sheer delight in his face as he looked at Bucky, and Bucky gulped, nervous. Then a sigh escapes Striker. "As much as I look forward to this, we have more important business to attend to first."

Confusion was on everyone except for Rumlow. "Sir?" one of the female scientists asked.

Manning snorted in derision. "The bonding?!" Striker snapped in impatience as if he were speaking to a two year old.

Everyone startled at this and Bucky began panting in panic. If he was given a handler then he was even more a slave. His life would never be his own after that, even if he were rescued. At least if his mind was wiped, he might stand a chance if he were rescued. With a handler, especially someone like Striker, there was no chance.

Fear ripped through Bucky. It was unusual. From what Bucky barely remembered about his bonding circumstances as he never remembered the actual bonding was they didn't wipe his mind until after the bond. And he was always alone with his new to be handler during the bonding. No one actually saw them until the bonding was completed at which point they both needed medical attention. Bucky would only recieve his medical attention after the mind wipe to help reaffirm his bond.

But Striker, instead of insisting that everyone leave, was allowing everyone to stay. It was unusual.

What made Bucky even more afraid was the fact that his new handler might potentially use him to kill his best friend Steve Rogers, and others he was close to, and there would be no way for him to fight it or disobey it, programming or not, no matter how much he wanted to.

Tears poured down Bucky's face faster. "Right," the doctors commented, and Rumlow was looking even more displeased. As Manning saw this, he snapped at Rumlow, "Got a problem with this?"

"Actually, yes!" Rumlow muttered under his breath. "Your destroying everything Hydra and Pierce stood for!"

"Rumlow!" Striker snapped, completely reprimanding, anger in his tone. His face was red and for the first time, Bucky saw sheer fury in Striker's eyes towards Rumlow. There was also pure hate. "You're lucky if I even so much as allow you to stay here! As it is, I'm counting on you to train the new commander on how to handle the Asset!"

Rumlow scoffed. "It would be in your best interest to name me commander as I am the one who has the knowledge on how to deal with the Asset."

A laugh burst out of Striker. "Once I'm handler, I won't _**need** _ a commander. I can control him as I please."

"You'll still need a commander to train him," Brock firmly affirmed.

Strieker grinned, cruelty on his face. "I can always _**make**_ you train him."

"And if I refuse?"

The challenge was evident, and shocked murmurs could be heard going around. Bucky watched the confrontation and listened closely. "Is Rumlow crazy?" a few people murmured, especially the guards. "It's treason!"

From what Bucky could gather, this was the first time that Brock had openly challenged the leadership of Hydra. Bucky had no idea why he had decided this all of a sudden, but part of him wondered if he had something to do with it. Brock had changed a lot secretly as they had journeyed and gone through danger together. While still loyal to Hydra, he seemed to be more concerned with Bucky and his feelings.

Striker was shaking in anger. Rumlow grinned, "Face it, Brad. You need me. And without my copperation, leader or not, you're not going to be able to get others to have the same success with the Asset that you do."

"Unless I order him," Brad growled.

"And he'll kill your entire squad before you get to give the order, I've seen it. He goes crazy after the bonding. And the handler is in no position after the bonding to do anything about it."

"Rumlow!" one of the guards whispered, reprimanded him out of fear. "Surely you won't do that to us!"

"Depends," Rumlow stared challengingly at Striker, Manning appearing nervous. But Bucky knew that he was bluffing. Rumlow didn't have it in him to allow harm to come to his fellow members of Hydra. "If Striker agrees, then no. But if not..." he trailed off with a grin.

Striker seemed to consider his options after this. "This is insubordination, Rumlow," he hissed, but Rumlow shrugged like he didn't care. Striker sighed finally. "What is it you want?"

Rumlow took a menacing step forward, shaking in rage. "What do I want?" Rumlow whispered. "What do you think I want? You've torn Hydra apart with your policies! I want you to respect Pierce's wishes and follow through with the original plan Hydra had in store! _**That**_ is the Hydra I joined!"

Striker's eyes bulged and his face was red. "You're not leader, Rumlow! You don't get to state what Hydra's goals are or tell me what to do!"

"And you're not leader yet either!" Rumlow spat.

"I am Pierce's heir!" Striker shouted, waving his hands widely.

With a chuckle, Rumlow replied, "But not leader!" Rumlow folded his arms, looking demandingly back.

Manning was glaring at Brock, pure hate in his eyes. He muttered to one of the guards who nodded, and Striker seemed to deliberate more. "Go on," Rumlow mocked, "Take your time. In fact, go through with the bonding. And when you're too sick to control the Asset, and he's murdering everyone in sight, don't come crying to me!"

"If he does that, you'll die too," Striker pointed out with a sneer.

The craziest look that Bucky had ever seen Rumlow give was currently on his face. "He'll be doing me a favor, then. I won't have to see the downfall, of Hydra because of your stupid actions!"

At this point, Bucky could see that Striker had been defeated. And the man knew it to, but he didn't seem to want to give up and give in to Rumlow. But with Rumoow's bluff, there was no choice.

"Fine!" He spat, folding his arms, looking away in anger, exchanging a look with one of his guards who also nodded. This didn't escape Rumlow's eyes. "You win. You can be his commander. And I'll honor Pierce's messed up plans and goals."

"Pierce was a thousand times better than you'll ever be!" Rumlow snapped back. "And don't forget that if it weren't for him, you wouldn't be future handler! Show some respect!"

Striker rolled his eyes and sighed. "Now that you've made your point, we'd better get started. Since you're so insistent and pushy, Rumlow, why don't you make yourself useful and open the safe?"

Rumlow glared back a moment before walking over. Bucky's breath hitched as Brock suddenly stood stalk still in front of the safe and the realization hit both Bucky and Rumlow at the same time.

Pierce encoded the safe with DNA. Striker had used Rumlow's emotions in an attempt to through him off.

Brock turned around slowly and faced Striker, the realization in his whole body posture.

"You're not the rightful leader of Hydra."

 **How is Hydra's politics for you?**

 **Please read and review.**


	8. Chapter 8: Rightful Heir

**I don't own Captain America.**

 **If you have not read chapter seven yet, you'll need to do so in order to understand this chapter. Also, please review chapter seven if you have not done so already.**

Chapter Eight: Rightful Heir

(Bucky Point of View)

"You're not the rightful leader of Hydra."

Shock was on Rumlow's face, as well as certainty and betrayal.

Striker frowned, crossing his arms. Bucky's breath hitched as he watched the scene unfold, unsure of what to think or feel. But one thing was for sure. Brock was right. Rumlow was his rightful handler. He wasn't sure if that reassured him or devastated him, for in the end he would still have a handler. But perhaps it was better Rumlow than anyone else.

The atomsphere tensed, and Striker sneered. "What are you on about now, Rumlow?" None of the subordinates seemed to be saying anything, their eyes transfixed, as if the situation were hard to understand. "Of course I am!"

And now there was anger in Rumlow's eyes. "You're not the rightful leader! Pierce encoded the safe with all the information to bond to the Asset with DNA. And your asking me to open it."

Though Striker showed no signs of giving a lie, Bucky noticed that Manning's eyes widened in fear. But it was then that Bucky knew for certain that Manning had known and been involved in trying to usurp control away from Rumlow to Striker.

But Striker was still adamant. "You've lost your mind, Rumlow! Guards!"

And as some of the guards stepped forward, Rumlow quicky took his gun out and pointed it at Striker. "All of you know I'm right," he informed the crowd, and only half of the guards looked disturbed. All the doctors looked disturbed, though, and Bucky had no doubt that if Rumlow could prove it, (which Bucky could see he was beginning to convince the room the truth of his statement), they would back him up. Half the guards also seemed to be considering the possibility that Rumlow was indeed the rightful leader, and Bucky was confident that they would back him up.

But half the guards appeared to be on Striker's side, by choice it seemed. And Bucky could tell that they had known the truth that Rumlow was rightful leader.

"You know, I'm right," Rumlow continued, tightening his grip on his gun, face confident. "But if you're the rightful leader, Striker, the why don't you go and open the safe?"

For the first time, Striker appeared caught between a rock and a hard place. Rumlow smirked. Both he and Bucky knew that if Striker attempted to open the safe, it would only reveal him. "You can't can you?" Rumlow mocked. "Because Pierce never designated you his heir. Did he?"

Striker clenched his fists. "Don't be absurd!"

Fury lay on Crossbone's face. " ** _Then go to the safe and open it_**!" he shouted, pointing with his other hand, the gun still in his right hand, pointed at Striker.

Stiker didn't budge.

Murmuring started in the crowd as the shock spread at the change of scenario and what had been done. But, suddenly, Bucky saw movement from Manning, a signal, and a guard pulled out a hidden gun. Bucky groaned, trying to get their attention, and Rumlow saw Manning's assassination attempt. The guard that had spoken up for Rumlow noticed the other guard attempting to shoot Brock because of Bucky's noise, and shot the other guard, and in an instant, guns were drawn, the strike team now divided, half the guards for Rumlow, and half the guards for Striker. But the doctors were on Rumlow's side.

Shock was on Rumlow's face. He turned to Striker, and the half of the guards supporting him. "Is this what I get for my many years of loyal service to Hydra? Traitors in my family?"

He spoke so silently, though all heard despite the tense situation. Some of the guards made an attempt to stand closer to Striker to shield him, and Rumlow's guards shifted as well, not only to guard him, but to try to get a lock on Striker. Unfortunately, for the doctors, none of them seemed to have any guns or weapons on hand. But then again, they weren't anticipating a confrontation and were expecting the guards to guard them.

Something hardened in Brock's eyes as he watched Striker and his strike team carefully. "I see. You've been planning this assassination and usurpation for a long time now. Why?"

There was no remorse in Striker's gaze. He sneered. "You don't deserve to be leader, Rumlow," he mocked, wagging his finger at him. "Pierce was wrong. Decades of work come to naught because of his plans. And you? You supported him. Hydra can be bigger, better than before."

Rumlow shook his head in derision. "And you think you can do better with your self destructive tendancies? Really? Bargaining with gangs to sell drugs? Bargaining with Lancet, who had been our enemy for a long time and wants to bring us down, who tried to expose us before? Hydra's supposed to control the world to reduce crime, not to start it. And yet you knowingly sent an army of ours to their deaths to destroy Lyon just so that you could obtain financial assistance because of your spending and gambling habits. Your very work has brought us down. Hydra is supposed to take care of it's own."

Striker's face went red with accusation. "You left us, Rumlow! Murdered some of our own! Who are you to be questioning my motives?!"

Something soft and sad spread across Rumlow's expression. "At least I agknowledged my faults. And through that, I was able to bring new recruits in, even my workers. I sought to repair the damage I did. And I grew Hydra more. But you, you've been one never ending cause of our destruction since day one. You've driven potential recruits away because of your practices. Hydra is supposed to be about justice, but you bring injustice. Your greedy, Brad. You live high on the hog, and you give no care to your workers who spill their blood for you. We're supposed to be family. But you're no family to us!"

"I brought order and harmony to Hydra when you abandoned it!" the man hissed.

Brock shook his head. "No, you brought what you thought would give you more power and glory. You sought for what would make you leader. You told everyone that you were heir when you weren't, and I know you've been spreading lies about me behind my back. You brought chaos."

Bucky shivered as the tensions mounted. And Bucky surmised that if this came out, most would be loyal to Rumlow. They only did Striker's bidding because it was assumed he was the heir.

A small smile graced Rumlow's lips. "Whose loyal to Hydra?" he shouted. Yells off assent came, including all the doctors. Manning's face was ashen pale. Rumlow motioned with his gun towards Striker. "Get him out of here!"

Immediately shots flew round the room as those loyal to Striker opened fire and those loyal to Rumlow fired back. The list of causalties on both sides was high, and Bucky winced as the bullets came near him. Rumlow was graced and had taken a hit. He shot the strike guards nearest to Striker and thus the more dangerous before attempting to take out Striker and Manning. But Striker had pulled Manning out and they fled. Rumlow's guards slaughtered the rest of the opposing strike team.

Bodies littered the ground, seeping the floor with red. Most of the doctors lay on the floor, and the only one alive, a woman, was nursing several wounds, severely injured. But as she saw her future leader bleeding, though it was only a minor non life threatening wound, she moved towards him, her blonde hair tainted with blood and streaming behind her.

Rumlow was kneeled down, clutching a wound on his shoulder from the ordeal. Several bullets had grazed his face, but other than that he was fine. "Let me help!" The doctor pled with him, going to take care of his wounds.

But Rumlow shook his head. "No, you're wounded and your wounds need to be tended to." He turned to one of the guards who was loyal to him, in slightly better condition than Rumlow. All were injured to various degrees. "Get her and those severly injured to the sick bay."

The man nodded and he picked her up. Several others picked up the injured and escorted them out. Next, Rumlow announced, still trying to tend his bothersome chest wound that had reopened, "Get these dead men out of here and clean the floor up. I won't have anyone tripping." They moved to obey him.

Bucky was surprised to be uninjured as everyone was careful to avoid hitting their precious Asset. The remainder, even the guard that had stuck up for Rumlow, looked at Brock for direction. "Now what?" he asked. "We have a traitor in our midst. What's more is we have no leader." That was a very careful reminder and a pledge of loyalty.

"He's right," another, a woman piped up. "We have no leader and we desperately need to solve this leadership dispute, especially with Striker walking around to cause more havoc." Then she turned to Rumlow, a small appreciative smile on her lips. "You were never going to let harm come to us, were you? You were never going to let the Asset kill us. You just wanted Striker to at least move in line with Pierce, to at least bring Hydra back to it's former glory."

Rumlow nodded.

The main guard whistled. "Harsh bluff, but it was necessary. But you still need to complete the bond and recieve your inheritance." Bucky visibly glowered at them for calling him an inheritance, but they all ignored him, even if they were all wary and fidgety at his current body language.

And Bucky hated that they kept treating him like an object, that they kept treating him like he was less than human. He hated how inconsiderate they were of him. And it hurt Bucky's feelings more than he could explain. He despaired because he was treated better by Steve and Steve's friends, and now he was downgraded to this sort of treatment.

He felt indignance that people would violate him and ask no permission before laying their hands on him as he'd always had the right to his own body when with Steve and Steve's friends. And Steve and Steve's friends had always respected his decisions, no matter what, even if Bucky's decision was no.

Rumlow nodded, standing up straight. He was to be leader now. "Right," he tried to orient himself. He turned to the leader of his team. "Get the word out. We need everyone to know what transpired here and exactly the treachery that Striker's commited. Also, get on secure channels and contact every cell about Striker's treachery. Let them know that I'm the real heir. Also, lock down this base. I don't want Striker and Manning escaping. They'll only cause troubles elsewhere. And fish out every traitor there is. I will not tolerate traitors in my Hydra. I need to know who to trust. These people went willing with Striker against Pierce's wishes, and they need to pay for that. Meanwhile, I'll complete the bonding, but I need to be alone for that. That's what happened with Pierce."

Everyone nodded and acknowledged him. Then the lead guard, who had spoken up for Rumlow addressed him. "I was wrong about you." And Rumlow seemed moved by this. The man continued, "Thinking back on it, it was always odd and it never made sense that Pierce didn't make you his heir since you were so loyal to him and were given the command words for the Soldier and Striker was so far out there. But I always assumed that since it was Pierce's will, I had to obey. But now I see. Pierce had never anticipated something like this happening. Pierce had complete confidence in you to lead us to victory. And so do I."

The guard tapped his fist to his chest, before shouting, "Hail Hydra!"

"Hail Hydra!" everyone responded.

The the loyal guard nodded to Rumlow. "My leader," he addressed, anticipatory of Rumlow's future role. And that was when Bucky knew Rumlow had his support.

"Our leader," everyone acknowledged.

Rumlow seemed moved as he looked as his group. "Thank you," he responded to everyone, and this was the first time Bucky had seen him moved and giving thanks. "I won't let you down," he promised. "I shall live up to our leader Alexander Pierce's expectations and shall help Hydra rise from the dust. I shall become the leader you need! To Alexander Pierce!"

"To Alexander Pierce!" they shouted.

"Hail Hydra!"

"Hail Hydra!" they followed Rumlow.

As the seeming ceremony ended, Brock looked at the safe and then turned to Bucky. And for the first time, Bucky saw an utter nervousness about him. It was almost like Rumlow couldn't believe he was to be leader, that he had inherited Bucky and Hydra. But there was also anxiousness regarding the bond, as it was said to make one sick initially. The others semed to sense this and had expressions of concern on their faces, even as Rumlow composed his fearures, trying to be the leader everyone needed.

"Do you know what to expect?" someone asked.

Rumlow shook his head and shuddered, almost anticipating pain from the bonding experience. "No. Pierce never told me, or anyone as far as I know."

There was silence for a minute, and Rumlow closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath to calm himself. "Have everyone out from me!" he ordered, and they shuffled to obey. "The future handler has to be alone with the Asset to do this. Establish a five hundred foot perimeter around this room and guard it. Do not come in, no matter how much time has passed. It can take time to do the bond. Pierce was quite a while in the room when he bonded to the Asset. I shall come out to you when the deed is done."

Everyone acknowleged him and his orders, and then they obeyed, filing out of the room. Rumlow followed, and when they we all out, he shut the door and locked it. Next, he turned to the safe, then to Bucky.

Bucky whimpered and protested with his voice. Rumlow gave a sympathetic and apologetic smile. "Easy, Soldier. Be calm." He studied Bucky closely. "So, I am to be your handler after all."

Bucky protested more with a whine, not bidden to speak. "Easy," Rumlow soothed again, striding confidently to the safe. But Bucky could tell that he was nervous for what was to come. "It'll be all right."

And all Bucky could do was wait.

(Steve Point of View)

(A few hours earlier)

Steve had been pacing for several hours. And during the last half hour, the pacing had intensified. "What is taking Tony so long?" he growled.

Sam chuckled nervously. "Maybe you're being too impatient."

Steve whipped around in aggression, defensive. "Don't give me pretend sympathy!" he snapped. "I know you don't like Bucky! You only started being nice to him when I had Bucky bring you casseroles in an attempt to make you two friends!"

Sam's eyes widened. And slowly, Steve's expression changed as he realised what he had just done. "Sam," he murmured. "I'm so sorry!"

Sam took a deep breath, and Steve was lucky to see forgiveness in his eyes. "Don't. I understand that you're stressed. I also understand that I caused undo tension for the two of you in the past because of my treatment of Bucky. I'll admit, I didn't like him at first, having ripped off my wings and all. But then I saw he was a pretty good guy in the end."

There was silence for a moment, and Sam sucked in another deep breath. "Bucky is my friend too, you know. He's grown on me. I don't like seeing him suffer any more than you do."

"I know," Steve choked in a whisper.

It was at that moment that Tony appeared on screen on the windshield of the quinjet. He was relaxed in a polo shirt, slightly open, and in trousers. Steve, upon seeing him, immediately ran over. "Tony?" he asked eagerly.

At that moment, Pepper Potts chose to walk into the frame. "Hey Steve," she greeted nicely, and Steve was relieved to see her. He was glad that things had worked out between her and Tony. In fact, he'd heard rumors that they were secretly married. But no one could really confirm it, except certain in the government who had been bribed to keep their mouths shut. Then again, Nat and Clint, being spies, probably knew.

It was a relief to have her there as Steve knew that she could reign Tony in. Thus, it was even better if she was married to him. She would be a good influence, an influence that Tony desperately needed.

But Tony was all business. "I think I've found something."

Steve perked up more. "You did?" he whispered in excitement, eyes gleaming with tears.

"Yeah," but Tony was grim. Immediately, they felt the quinjet make a sharp turn to the left as they shifted course. "You know that old abandoned Hydra base we shot down near London in the good old days?" Steve nodded, concerned now. How much had Hydra shot back from their devastation?

"But the British governement said they were keeping an eye on it! They were taking it apart!"

Tony sighed. "And indeed they are. There has literally been no activity in that base. But I'm not talking about the base, am I? No, there was a cloked quinjet found five miles from that location. It's got to be yours."

"So they're somewhere in the city?" Steve pushed.

Tony sighed and shrugged. "I don't know, Steve. I mean the fliers are out if they are, and that's even if they get spotted. But the quinjet was found empty. And it was found open. If they were planning on going back to it, why leave it open?"

"They could be hiding somewhere!" Steve pleaded desperately.

Tony shook his head. "I asked the locals to examine the evidence. Chances are, they're long gone Steve."

Steve closed his eyes in frustration and tried to breathe evenly. "Then where are they headed?"

Tony remained silent. Finally, he replied, "That's why I'm sending you there. Maybe you'll be able to find and discover something that their forensics couldn't. They found holes in the dashboard and wall where the trakers used to be. Rumlow's smart. He took them out. And let's face it. If I were Rumlow, and I took the trakers out, I know that there's probably still a chance that I can be tracked. And if I know the's a chance I can still be tracked, then I'm going to find a way off that quinjet as fast as possible and find another way to take Bucky to my hidden location."

Steve knew Tony was right, and that didn't make it any easier. He let out a big sigh. "So what do we do?"

Tony grimaced. "Take a look."

(An hour later)

Tony landed them right by the quinjet. It was unclocked and ready to go. When they opened the quinjet door, there were British officials waiting to meet them.

A woman with dark blonde hair in a business suit, a black suit with black dress pants and red under shirt, stepped up to greet them. Beside her were another woman and two other men, all in business suits. Her dark skin was beautiful, and her clothing easily complimented her hazel eyes.

"Captain Rogers," she greeted, and as Steve stepped first off the man did his best to compose his features despite the pressure he was under. "I'm Melanie Cooper. I'll be your adviser while you are here. We were asked to meet with you to discuss the kidnapping of Sergeant Barnes and how this could affect the British population."

Steve held out his hand and she shook it. "Ma'am." The others nodded their heads to her, and the Cap greeted the rest of her entourage. Then he turned back to Melanie. "You said you found something?"

Melanie nodded and led them inside the quinjet. Steve frowned as he eyed the holes that Tony had been talked about. Melanie waited patiently as he and his comrades inspected the quinjet.

Sighing, Steve didn't know where to begin. It was on a rooftop, away frim security cameras, and yet the report had said that there were no sightings of them, even on camera. He put his hand to his forehead and rubbed it gingerly, eyes closed, as he asked, "Has there been any new information since the last time you contacted Tony?"

He was facing away frim her, so he didn't see her reaction. "No," she informed him, and there was a carefulness about his tone. Perhaps Tony had warned them that he was hysterical. "Everything has stayed the same. We haven't found anything new and there are no clues as to where they could have gone."

Steve puffed out a breath of frustration, and it was that point that Steve noticed Natasha step foreard. "Do you mind if I take a look at the official reports?" she requested.

Turning back, Steve noticed Melonie nod her head. "Of course. This way." And she led Natasha out of the quinjet, her entourage following suit.

Steve turned back to the others, desperation in his face. "What do we do?!" he begged them, Sam eyeing him while Clint was looking around the quinjet, inspecting it. He took a careful eye at some of the crates on the floor, then frowned. Pulling one out with his knee high boot, he popped the top off with his boot and began riffling throug it, strewing contents on the floor.

Steve was still annoyed with Clint for starting this mess to begin with. "What are you doing, Clint?" he asked in exasperation.

But Clint ignored him. He subsequently pulled another crate out, proceeded to go through it's contents and strew them all over the floor, before going through the other crates and doing the same thing. He frowned. "Does anyone have an item's checklist or something for the contents of this plane?" he asked.

Steve frowned. "No. Why?"

Clint sighed and turned back to him. "Because I'm pretty sure that this is the same plane that I left some of my outer wear on for mission assignments, and it's missing."

Rendering a confused look, Steve asked, frustrated that Clint chose to ask about his _**clothes**_ at such a time as this, "Really, Clint? You're concerned about a few articles of clothing left here before you retired?"

Clint huffed, clearly tired of Steve's attitude towards him. "I did say I was sorry!" Clint muttered under his breath. Then he announced, his expression aggravated, "Yes, I'm concerned. After all, if _**Rumlow**_ is wearing my _**outer** **clothes**_..." He trailed off, leaving Steve to catch the hint

Steve's eyed widened as he considered this. "We might have a way to track Bucky!" he breathed in excitement.

"Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!" Clint pointed one sarcastic finger at him.

Clint yelped as Steve basically pounced on him literally and dragged him off the quinjet in excitement, completely ignorant of Clint's protesting. "I don't know how you knew to look for that, Clint! It was ingenius!"

Clint was huffing and puffing and gagging as he was dragged down the ramp across the gravel, his feet not even under him to help him walk. "Crates... were... Misplaced..." Clint spat, not really able to talk.

One would think that Steve dragging Clint like this would slow them down, but apparently not with the super soldier serum and all. He went just as fast. And when they reached Nat and Melanie, Steve deposited Clint at Melanie's feet. Sam had a raised eyebrow. Clint had a 'help me' look. Everyone ignored Clint's 'help me' look. Nat was as patient as ever.

"Clint!" Steve was excited, his eyes bright for the first time in a long time. "Tell them what you told me!"

Clint was still gagging from his ordeal. "After... I... catch... a... breath!" The man held his arm up, putting one finer up to show that he would, on all fours, panting on the ground.

Steve seemed to notice him for the first time and frowned in disapproval. Sam eyed Steve, urging him to patience with the look in his eye.

"Okay," Clint gagged, still breathless. "I noticed that the crates were misplaced, so I sorted through them and discovered some of my articles of clothing that I'd left behind missing."

"And this helps us how?" Melanie asked with delicately raised eyebrows.

Clint sighed, shaking his head, putting his head in his hands. "Rumlow and Bucky took it!" he waved his hands in exasperation, then finally stood up. "If we can bring the security cameras up, we might be able to finally find them!"

This possibility churned around in everyone's head, Steve still excited at their first breakthrough. Then Melanie motioned Clint over. "We'll go over the cameras together," she practically ordered Clint.

"Yeah, no problem," Clint grunted, as if miffed that no one had thanked him. He shuffled grudgingly after Melanie.

But Steve excitedly held Melanie back a minute, grasping her arm firmly. She winced a while at his tight grip, seemingly annoyed. "Sorry!" Steve quickly apologized before continuung with his question, "When will we hear a location?"

Melanie sighed, his expression hard to turn down. "The truth is, this may lead nowhere."

"But when will we hear an answer?" Steve stressed, his worry for his friend quite clear in his youthful looking eyes.

"When I have an answer to give," Melanie infirmed him dryly, removing her grip from his arm. Then she and Clint proceeded to walk down the stairs and off the roof.

Sam sauntered up to Steve, placing a lone hand on his shoulder.

"Come on. Let's give them some space."

(Bucky Point of View)

Shear fear was inside Bucky. He was about to gain another handler. He would be a slave for sure then. He could only hope that things wouldn't be too bad with Rumlow.

Whimpering in protest with his voice bcause Rumlow's commands as commander wouldn't let him talk, he heard Rumlow, who was somewhere behind him, whisper, "Easy."

'I don't want this!' was all Bucky could think. 'I don't want this! I don't want this! I don't want this! Please don't do this to me! I don't want this! I don't want this! I don't want this!'

Rumlow had walked over to the safe then had begun pacing, working up the courage to open it. Finally, the man took in a deep breath and let it out. "I can do this," Rumlow murmured softly. "I have to. For Hydra. Hail Hydra." Then he walked over to the safe, a calm expression on his face from what Bucky could tell. And Bucky knew there was deep inner turmoil within Brock.

Rumlow hesitated for a moment, and then he reached, pressing his thumb to an oval identation on the right side of the safe. Both of them jumped as the safe immediately clicked open.

Taking another breath, Rumlow pulled the safe open wide, and though Bucky couldn't see it's contents, he whined again. Rumlow made no reply, ignoring him.

From Rumlow's body language, Bucky could tell he was in awe. Patiently, reverently, Rumlow pulled some of the contents out, and when he pulled back, Bucky could see it was some papers. But Bucky couldn't see the writing on it, it being written on one side only. And Rumlow was making sure the side with writing was not where Bucky could read.

It only kept Bucky's anxiety high, not knowing what was going to happen to him, not able to anticipate anything. Bucky didn't even remember how the bonding worked. He never did. It was something Hydra made sure would happen automatically whenever he bonded to a new handler.

Rumlow put page one behind the stack, and he continue reading in concentration and awe. "So Pierce really did name me handler after all," Rumlow whispered, and to the man it was like his dreams had come true. Bucky could tell that it had been so confusing for Rumlow when Pierce had named him commander but had not named him heir. And only now could Bucky see how much Rumlow had been hurt by that. It was no wonder he had briefly turned against Hydra, feeling more betrayed as time went on.

There was an acceptance on Rumlow's face as he finished reading the stack of papers at least five pages deep. Then he returned to the safe and pulled out more papers, studying it closely. He paced back and forth in deep concentration, a thoughtful looking on his face. Bucky watched him warily as his expressions changed as he read on.

For a good forty minutes, Rumlow kept returning to the safe, putting the papers back, before pulling newer papers out and reading them. "I hope I can remember all this," Rumlow murmured softly in worry when he stopped reading the latest batch of papers. "This is a lot to take in!"

'Please no!' Bucky begged Rumlow with his eyes. 'Please no! Please no! Please no! Let me go! Please no! Please no! Please no!'

But Rumlow was ignoring him. He was in deep, meditative thought, the papers slightly down but the writing still concealed from Bucky. Rumlow appeared to be pondering what he just read as if trying to make sense of all of it. "And it's supposed to become clearer when I bond?" Rumlow finally snorted in skepticism, voicing his thoughts surprisingly aloud.

Rumlow took the opportunity to gaze Bucky in the eyes, as if seeing him through a new lense. The was also excitement there, like a duty Rumlow always wanted that he now was going to get, it was like a kid before his birthday.

All Bucky could do was stare back with begging eyes, begging him not to, begging him to let him go. But Brock was not about to, not when his wildest dreams had been answered. There was no way he was passing this opportunity up, even if he was still nervous to do it.

Rumlow walked and put the papers back in the safe. But this time he didn't take any papers out. A small object was pulled out of the safe, but it was so small and concealed in Rumlow's hands that Bucky didn't know what it was. "Hope I can remember all of this," Rumlow murmured before turning to Bucky again, walking right over to him, but still maintainting at least a yard of distance.

Poor Bucky cowered away from him, terrified. But he wasn't able to go anywhere, restrained.

Rumlow's eyes traced the features of Bucky's face before trailing down to where the IV was in his Asset's arms. Rumlow grimaced. "Forgot about that," he grunted. Pocketing whatever the small object was in his back pocket, Rumlow paced calmly forward. Bucky tried to press into the chair more as if he could get away from the man. But the attempt was useless, especially since he was restrained to the hated chair.

"Be calm," Rumlow ordered him. "Don't move while I take this out. Relax."

Bucky's body obeyed the order without his permission. His body was completely relaxed and still, but Bucky was still completely afraid, the whites of his eyes showing.

Bucky watched Rumlow closely as the man picked up a pair of blue gloves. They snapped as they came on, and if Bucky didn't have the command workng on his body, he would have flinched. He whined some. "Don't," Rumlow warned sternly, harshly. But there was also a gentleness to him as he carefully removed the IV. No cottonball was needed as the wound closed up right away.

Rumlow properly disposed of the sharps in a red hazard container, and then he peeled off his gloves, walking to the far side of the room to throw them away. "It's a good thing the medication is out of your system and it was only saline you were on. I'm not entirely sure the bond would have worked if you were drugged. None of the previous handlers had you drugged even the slightest when they did it and the instructions say to make sure you're not even drugged in the slightest. I guess I should follow it, shouldn't I?"

He gave a small smile to Bucky as he turned back to him but Bucky could only whimper in response. Now he was afraid of the man because of what he was going to do to him. Though Rumlow's speech was spoken softly and with no malice or aggressiveness, Bucky couldn't help the shudders running through him. His eyes were wide and still begging Rumlow.

Truth be told, Bucky had never remembered what had happened last time. It was scary to think that they had slowly weaned him off his medication until he was completely drug free and sober. It meant Bucky was wide awake and aware and alert for the bonding last time, even though he didn't remember it. It meant he would be wide awake and aware and alert this time, fully comprehending what was happening to him. That though was frightening, even if he wouldn't remember it. He didn't want to be fully capable of experiencing the bonding process, even if he would eventually forget it. And this thought scared him.

But as Rumlow saw his fearful expression, his own gaze and expression softened in sympathy. "Hey, it'll be all right."

The man sighed as he saw Bucky's terrified expression continue. He walked slowly back, in no hurry. "Don't be that way," he murmured softly. "It'll be all right."

Bucky shook his head. 'No it won't be!' he tried to say with his expression.

Rumlow stopped about a yard in front of Bucky, silently observing him. Both were mentally preparing themselves for what was to come. Rumlow gave Bucky a minute to compose himself, and Bucky was ironically grateful. Striker would never have been that considerate to him. He would have just done it.

But Rumlow was giving Bucky time to come to terms with what was about to take place. He was giving him time to come to terms with his fate. And something deep down inside Bucky told him that that was more than any handler or person in Hydra had ever done for him. That much he knew even though he couldn't remember it. The rest simply didn't care. Though maybe, once they became his handler, they cared somewhat for reasons he couldn't even remember. But Bucky remembered that Pierce was fiercly fond of him in a twisted sort of way. And Bucky had the distinct feeling that the same applied to his other previous handlers.

Tears streamed down Bucky's face. His eyes were still pleading, begging Rumlow to stop, but he was without hope now.

Rumlow let out a soft sigh. "Let us begin," he murmured softly, and he took a lone step closer, causing Bucky to cringe back. "It'll be all right," he murmured softly again, reassuringly. And it wasn't just for Bucky. It was also for himself as he was also nervous.

Rumlow's hand slipped into his back pocket, and he took the small object out once more. It was concealed, though, and Bucky couldn't see it. And as Bucky warily watched Rumlow, frightened, a part of him wondered, knowing he had always been awake and aware and alert when bonding to his previous handlers, if he was always terrified when he went through the bonding. He wondered how much he had struggled against them to try to prevent himself from being bonded. But apparently he had never succeeded, regardless of what happened.

"Hey!" Rumlow softly encouraged, a gentleness in his tone, like he was trying to be kinder to Bucky in the way he went about this. "Look at me, okay?" Brock smiled in encouragment. Bucky eyed him warily, still scared, even with the reassurance that everything would be all right in Brock's gaze. "Relax," Rumlow encouraged him.

But Bucky couldn't relax. Regardless, Rumlow chose to proceed forward anyways, being gentle and slow in his movements so as not to frighten Bucky any more than he already was. "Look at me," he encouraged again softly, giving an encouraging smile, and the commander programming forced Bucky to obey. He looked at Rumlow and as he did so, Brock moved his hand forward, bringing the obejct, a lighter, in between him and Bucky.

Bucky's eyes widened in terror and he wanted to look away, but before he could, Rumlow lit the lighter. And Bucky was frozen in place. Rumlow gasped in awe. "It still works," he whispered in fascination. "After all these years!"

Bucky was dazed, but he was aware of what was going on. In order to bond, Rumlow was going to put him in hypnosis. And Bucky vaguely recalled now of all times that it was that way in the past to, a flame from a candle or lighter was used. Bucky didn't know if the flame was a trigger or not. But he didn't think so. It had been ingrained in him, in order to bond to a handler.

Vague, fuzzy memories of his previous bonds flashed in his mind's eye. But they were unclear. It was like looking through a cloud of dust through to the memories. But Bucky instinctually knew what came next as his body remembered.

Bucky was only aware on the outskirts of his consciousness that Brock had begun whispering some words to him. They became more fluid and confident throughout time. And all Bucky could do was stare at the flame of fire as his mind processed the words subconsciously. Visions flashed through his mind too fast for him to interpret or understand. And Bucky understood that this was part of the bonding process. They would not reappear again.

Bucky's body worked against his will and started relaxing more and more as the words were said. And a small part of his mind registered that Rumlow's words were becoming slurred as well as Rumlow also became further hynpontised. Bucky had forgotten that during the bonding process his handler to be also looked at the flame, thus initiating the bonding. It took both of them looking at the flame to initiate the bonding.

The flashes of vision became clearer and Bucky realised that he was looking at the memories of his past handlers as if he were living their lives.

Bucky's body became shaky. Tremors racked his body, and he couldn't support himself anymore, his eyes hazy as he watched the flame. And he was aware of Rumlow's struggle to remain alert also.

A voice seemed to whisper in his mind, "Don't fight it." It sounded like Zola's voice. Bucky knew Brock heard the voice as well. The bond was pure instinct now. The rest of the words were not necessarily needed. They were only meant to initiate the bond and get their minds and bodies in a state where the bonding part of the bonding process could start. The hypnosis was the start up phase.

Rumlow went limp, completely collapsing to the floor, giving in like he was directed to. But Bucky resisted a bit more, even though it was impossible to succeed. He remembered fighting some of the previous bonds. Sometimes he lasted longer than others. But in the end he always gave in against his will and fell into the bond. He would get so tired, like a person struggling to stay awake. Eventually that person would drop in exhasution, no matter how much they tried to stay awake. It was the same thing for Bucky.

As Bucky desperately fought and fought, he felt his strength draining with every minute. It was normal as they bonded. Before, he had struggled for hours and hours on end to prevent being bonded. Sometimes he fell into the bond sooner because he was more exhausted, sometimes later becaude he wasn't as tired before the bonding even started.

Bucky knew there was no chance for him. He knew that he was fighting against the inevitable. He also knew that the quicker he gave in, the quicker it would be over, and the bonding wouldn't be as exhausting, or perhaps as traumatic for him. Regardless, it was still traumatic. But he couldn't not fight. It was instinct. And meanwhile, Rumlow couldn't move forward into the bond either until Bucky finally fell in. It was all on how long Bucky could last now.

It was a mental battle, a mental battle that Bucky was loosing. The chords of the bonding process wrapped stronger and stronger around him. But Bucky still continued to fight. He was terribly tired though.

"Relax," the voice of the bond, Zola's voice, whispered once more. "Give into the bond. It will be easier if you give into the bond."

Bucky barely had any energy left. He was loosing. He wouldn't be able to fight much longer. He knew he had lasted several hours fighting the bond though, so perhaps he could be proud of that. Maybe he had even set a new record.

Finally, Bucky's strength gave way. He couldn't do it anymore. Exhausted, he fell into the bond.

Sheer agony struck both him and Rumlow. Bucky couldn't even begin to describe he pain that both he and Rumlow were enduring. It was beyond anything that anyone in Hydra had done to him, even the hated chair, other than the other bonding processes with the previous handlers, of course.

Both Rumlow and Bucky were screeching in agony, in seizure almost as they both suffered. Their strength was being drained.

Vaguely, both Bucky and Rumlow were aware of what was going on. A part of Bucky's life essence was painfully ripped out of him, and a part of Bucky's very being torn from him. In agony, a part of his soul was torn out as well. Portions of his DNA were being torn out as well and handed to Rumlow. It was then seared onto Rumlow's being, becoming part of him. In turn, a part of Rumlow's life essence, his very being, his soul, and his DNA were painfully riped out and seared onto Bucky.

Their very souls, their very lives, their very beings, their very DNA was practically seared together until it was as if there was no rift to begin with. It was as if they had been born that way.

Bucky could feel Rumlow's very life flowing through him just as much as Rumlow could surely feel Bucky's life coursing through him. They could feel each other's breathing.

Bucky groaned, still sweating and crying as Rumlow's very memories up to the point of being bonded began coursing though him and flashing through his very eyes. He knew that his memories up to the point of bonding were also coursing through Rumlow. They could feel the very emotions and mental processes through each of the memories, though they couldn't read the very exact thoughts that the person had had in the memory.

For the first time, Bucky got a glimpse into Rumlow's life, and suddenly he understood. As he watched Rumlow's life play out before his eyes as if he were living it, he felt Rumlow's strong desire to help others, to make a difference in the world. And Bucky could see that it wasn't just the poor Rumlow had wanted to help.

A man with brown hair and green eyes stood before Bucky. Bucky was in the position of young Rumlow. Bucky was glancing across the street to the young mother who clearly needed help getting groceries into her house, especially since she had a crying baby that needed her. And Bucky could tell that Rumlow felt compassion for both the mother and the baby.

Bucky, acting out Rumlow's motions tried to walk across the street to help them, but the man that was Rumlow's father held him back. "Leave them," Rumlow's father Davis roughly commanded him, practically growling.

"But dad!" Bucky's mouth formed the words Rumlow had said in that very instant. "They need help! Her baby is crying! She needs help with-"

At that moment Davis harshly slapped Rumlow hard across the face leaving a mark. Davis pointed at them angrily as the woman who Rumlow wanted to help gave him a pitiful eye full of gratitude and she gratefully smiled, acknowledging that she knew what Rumlow wanted to do. It was not the first time he'd tried to help her only to be held back. And she was not the only one that Rumlow had been prevented from helping.

"If she cannot help herself," Davis spat at his son. "Then she should not even be living. She shouldn't be living off of others."

"But she's not!" Rumlow yelled back only to recieve another harsh slap. Rumlow clenched his fists in anger.

"The only honor is in making one's own living," Davis growled. "Those that are too lazy to do so are thieves preying on those who work hard for what they have!"

"There's also honor in helping those who, after they've done everything for themselves, still need help!" Young Rumlow shouted back. Davis slapped his son harshly again, but at this point Rumlow had had it. Screaming, he punched his father harshly back before breaking his nose. As Davis stepped back in surprise, Rumlow launched himself at him, knocking him to the ground.

A fight ensued and they both rolled over, but somehow Rumlow managed to get several punches in, leaving his father sprawling on the floor. Getting up, somewhat bloody, Rumlow proceeded to kick his father. "Do you like it?" Rumlow yelled at him. "Come on! You're so honorable! An honorable man needs no help when he's fighting a _**kid**_!"

Rumlow screamed more in frustration, and the man groaned more, clunching his insides as Rumlow continued to kick him. "Do you like it?!" Rumlow continued to screech, tears pouring down his face as he let all his pain out. "Do you like it? Does it feel good when you're kicked and slapped?! Well guess what! This is exactly how mother feels when you kick and hit her!"

Rumlow continued kicking and hitting his father who now had broken bones, and it took the police pulling him off his father and restraining him for it to stop.

As the memories played out, Bucky felt Rumlow's hate for his father increase after that very incident, fed up with everything. He watched in anger and frustration that the police had merely sent his father to the hospital, despite both him and his mother confessing about the abuse Davis laid on his mother. Rumlow had heard the police were corrupt, that Shield was corrupt.

But his hate only increased, especially for the nation that was supposed to be free, when the courts had ignored his mother's pleadings on abuse. His father wasn't even sent to jail, instead he was sent home. She'd gotten no justice. And when Marion had tried to file for divorce, the courts wouldn't have it as Davis didn't want to be divorced. "Go home and be a good wife," she was told by the courts.

Rumlow was grateful when the law was changed to allow people to divorce whenever for that very reason. But he would have liked it if the abusers were jailed.

What was more, Bucky watched in Rumlow's shoes that his mother was threatened by the courts that if she even attempted to file for divorce again, Marion would be deemed an unfit mother with all rights to her son lost, and Rumlow awarded to Davis for custody.

Bucky felt Rumlow's anger that his opinions weren't even considered or asked for in the decision.

This memory struck Bucky the most throughout the whole process. He didn't know why, but perhaps it was because it was the turning point for Rumlow into considering something like Hydra taking over the world.

Bucky wasn't even surprised when after joining Hydra Rumlow murdered his father because he suspected that his father had killed his mother and that his mother's suicide was actually murder. Despite the police reports, Rumlow was pretty sure Davis had killed his wife, and Rumlow wanted Davis to pay. He didn't even consider Davis his father anymore. It was easy to convince Hydra to help him.

As this all played through Bucky's mind, tears streamed down his face.

The memories passed through Bucky's mind in greatest of agony. And as he experienced everything, his body already torn apart from the bonding process making him go crazy in an attempt to cope with the bonding process, Bucky felt his mind rip apart in agony as the bonding process continued and as the memories continued to roll forward. And he still had a long ways of memories to go through. He didn't know how he was going to get through this, his sanity slipping. And the memories coupled with the bonding experience and the pain of the bonding experience were too much to handle.

Bucky screamed louder.

Bucky couldn't pull away from it as the memories rolled on faster and faster, and finally his mind had had it. His mind ripped and he was unable to hold onto his sanity anymore, the memories still rolling on.

Finally, thankfully, it ended.

Bucky was panting, staring off into nowhere, his body in shock from the horrid experience, and yet not really present. His body was in agony as if he had just taken the greatest beating of his life, and as if his mind had been wiped in more cruel agony than ever before. His body was shivering, and tears slipped silently down his face.

Rumlow groaned, experiencing phyisical pain as well, overwhelmed with Bucky's many memories.

For a while neither were able to move, both physically sick and Bucky terribly confused. Then finally, with the greatest effort, Brock Rumlow struggled to stand.

Out of the corner of his corner of his eye, Bucky could see him. He was no longer aware of who he was. He didn't know how to interpret his surroundings. His mind was scattered, and Rumlow felt this. And Rumlow, doing something none of his handlers had ever been able to do before, with greatest effort ignored his own needs and focused on Bucky, wrapping his mind in a bandage almost, doing his best to piece his mind back together by using the bond. In fact, the bond was the only way to do it.

It took a fair amount of effort on Rumlow's part, and it took everything that Rumlow had to do it. It was so strenuous on Rumlow that he threw up even. As he did so, he did his best to send comfort through their link in an effort to reach out to Bucky and bring him back.

After a couple of hours of efforts, Rumlow screaming in pain at many points as he tried to preserve his Asset's sanity, Bucky was finally able to come back to himself. He whimpered as saw Rumlow. 'It hurts,' he seemed to say as he gazed sadly and in sorrow at Rumlow.

Both of them knew that there was no way that Rumlow could hold onto Bucky's mind forever and keep his mind pieced together. Rumlow's hold on Bucky's mind was the only thing keeping him sane at this point. Eventually, Rumlow's strength would leave and Bucky's mind would go again, until he could be trained that is.

Struggling, Rumlow stood up as he had collapsed as he struggled to piece Bucky's mind together, something that was needful because of the coop that they were enduring.

As Rumlow stood up and eyed the chair that Bucky was in, suddenly Bucky was afraid. He shaking like a leaf very, very hard, and tears of fear ran down his eyes. Fear of Rumlow and what he would do to him swept through him, as he knew what came next - the mind wipe.

Crossbones strode over confidently, though still weak from the bond. Bucky's trembling and fear only increased, but he could only watch Rumlow at this point, having accepted his fate. Determination to do what was neeeded was on Crossbone's face, and Bucky mourned, having no hope left.

Standing in front of the computer monitors and controls, Brock examined them to see what needed to be done in order to wipe his Asset. Bucky looked away, consumed in fear, briefly closing his eyes before opening them again, looking away from Rumlow and at the hated contraption, shivering harder with each passing second.

Rumlow looked in Bucky's direction, staring at his Asset, and suddenly something in his demeanor changed. Bucky could feel concern seeping through the link to him, and Bucky looked over, wide eyed and still shivering.

Rumlow reached over to the controls and Bucky watched helplessly as Rumlow typed in something.

Suddenly the cuffs and restraints came of his wrists and ankles. Bucky stopped shivering, looking at Rumlow in shock. Pity for him seeped through the link, as well as shame that he couldn't do what a handler was required to do to his Asset, and Rumlow looked away in shame that he had failed as handler. And that was when Bucky knew - Brock couldn't do it. He didn't have it in him to harm his Asset who was clearly so terrified already.

Bucky didn't know what to do, so he lay in the chair, and finally Brock met his gaze, watching him.

Finally, nervously, Bucky struggled out of the chair, too weak to support himself. Unable to do so, he collapsed on the concrete floor and began crying, weeping because of his ordeal. The trauma was too much for him to endure. As he mourned pitifully, Bucky felt Brock kneel next to him, and the next thing Bucky knew, Rumlow's arms were wrapped around him in a comforting manner.

"Shhh," Rumlow whispered to Bucky, sending comfort through the link, trying his hardest to soothe Bucky. That Rumlow could feel all of Bucky's emotions, Bucky knew. Bucky cried harder and leaned into Brock, letting the man hold him.

They stayed like this for sometime, long enough for Bucky to finally calm down. "Do you need more time?" Rumlow asked him in a soothing manner, willing at this point to at least give Bucky as much time as he needed.

Bucky shook his head, tears still streaming down his face and he wiped his eyes. "I just want to get out of here," he mourned, and Brock nodded softly, complete understanding in his eyes. He understood that his precious Asset didn't want to stay in the place where something bad and traumatic to him had taken place.

Helping Bucky stand, Brock kept his arms around him, steadying Bucky until Bucky could get his strength again. Gently guiding him to the door, Bucky took a deep breath. When Brock opened the door and they stepped out into the hallway, Bucky had to lean for a little longer on Brock until he was finally able to stand on his own again. Truth be told he still had no idea how they were both able to stand so soon after the ordeal. That was unusual. And Bucky was only able to stand because Brock lent him strength through the bond. Rumlow was strong, that was for sure.

They didn't come across the sentries that Rumlow had ordered to be posted around them yet. They were still a ways out, keeping the perimeter as ordered. That Bucky knew because he could hear them pacing, as much as he could hear the gunfire going on in various parts of the facility. There was a fullscale war going on. Bucky found himself hoping that Brock's side won because they would be the lesser of the two evils in Bucky's opinion.

Brock had Bucky wait outside the doorway to the maintenence room and lean against the wall, taking watch. As Bucky glanced behind him, he saw Brock gather all the papers. Then the man took the lighter he had recieved, burning the entire batch of papers. He stayed in the room until it was burnt completely to ashes, not able to be retrieved by anyone at that point.

As Brock came out and saw Bucky staring seriously at him in confusion, Brock answered, feeling Bucky's question, "So that no one else gets ahold of it." Bucky nodded in response.

Next, Brock led them a short ways down the hallway, all the doors looking the same. But Brock seemed to know exactly where to go. Taking a key out, the man opened a door, revealing a small room with a closet. And there, displayed and hanging up, was a new tactical suit for Bucky. It was built for his old shape and size, and as Bucky had changed somewhat in body build he wasn't sure whether or not it would fit. He had lost weight again, after all, slimming down to a more health size, muscles toned. But at least it was protection from the volatile enviroment they were now in.

Brock turned to Bucky, motioning to his tactical gear. "Get dressed," the man ordered, and Bucky moved to obey aware that Brock was looking out for his life in doing so. Stepping forward, Bucky took the black bullet proof jacket down, the close fitting long sleeved shirt that went underneath it and was designed to keep him warm, as well as provide protection from fire. Next he took down the black combat pants, having various straps and belts for attaching weapons and accessories. It was also bullet proof.

It was curious to Bucky that Hydra had proudly displayed his gear. It was almost as if they were anticipating having him back at some point, and they were proud to have him back, thus they displayed that. Bucky would have to ask Brock about this later, and hopefully the man would let him ask questions like he allowed earlier. He still didn't know where the two if them stood now that they were back at Hydra. Would Brock continue to show compassion to him?

Bucky wondered about this as he shuffled over to the locker room that had stalls for privacy. As he changed into the first part of his gear, he thought on his question. His answer was hopefully as Brock had made a move to comfort him after the bond, and had even decided not to do the mind wipe. In fact, Brock seemed very concerned about Bucky.

As Bucky came out of the stall in his gear, the door silently bouncing back and forth, he went back to Rumlow who was already in his combat gear from earlier. But this time he had donned a bullet proof jacket. Vaguely, Bucky wondered when Brock would get around to getting his wounds treated. Brock was notorious for surviving the harshest of circumstances. Then again, so was Bucky.

As Bucky stood at attention, Brock nodded in approval. Then Brock walked over and went to a drawer. Bucky could feel what Brock was feeling at that point. The man thought his gear was missing something.

Unlocking a drawer, Brock pulled out a familiar mask and goggles. He handed it to Bucky and because of the bond, Bucky was forced to take it.

Bucky stared at the mask and goggles in his hands, coming to terms with what Brock was telling him. It was time to embrace his role as the Winter Soldier, Hydra's Winter Soldier.

Bucky trembled.

 **The next chapter is the penultimate chapter for this story, though this story will have a sequel.**

 **Please review this chapter as well.**


	9. Chapter Nine: Hydra's Asset

**I don't own Captian America.**

Chapter Nine: Hydra's Asset

(Bucky Point of View)

As Bucky stood at attention, Brock nodded in approval. Then Brock walked over and went to a drawer. Bucky could feel what Brock was feeling at that point. The man thought his gear was missing something.

Unlocking a drawer, Brock pulled out a familiar mask and goggles. He handed it to Bucky and because of the bond, Bucky was forced to take it.

Bucky stared at the mask and goggles in his hands, coming to terms with what Brock was telling him. It was time to embrace his role as the Winter Soldier, Hydra's Winter Soldier.

Bucky trembled.

A concerned expression rose on Rumlow's face as he felt the emotional turmoil inside Bucky. Bucky continued staring at his additional gear, grief and horror in his eyes. Tears streamed down his face, and he began shaking, sobbing. Mourning was in his gaze.

Brock stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on his slave's shoulder. Then he gently removed the gear from Bucky's hands. "If you're not ready," he mumured softly, sending comfort through the link. "Then I'm not going to force you to use it." Bucky looked up and stared at him, stunned.

Sighing, Rumlow replaced the gear in the drawer. Then he turned back to Bucky, a compassionate and kind expression on his face. "Hydra really terrifies you, doesn't it? More so than you let on."

Bucky nodded quickly, silently. Rumlow stared at him with a knowing expression, having experienced what he went through via his memories.

A calm acceptance was on Bucky at this point. Though he was still shaky and scared, he felt a bit more ease with Rumlow, especially since the guy was accomodating him more than any handler had ever done. That, and Rumlow was sensitive to him.

"Come," Brock motioned to him, summoning him with one hand. He stepped towards the door, and Bucky filed behind him. As Rumlow turned around, he wiped the tears off of his Asset's face gently with the back of his hand. "You need to be able to focus," he murmurred softly. "There is a lot of danger out there."

Bucky registered the words and the commands immediately. He nodded in obedience, and a blank expression covered his face. He didn't want to have to cope with his emotions right now.

Brock opened the door and they strode out of the room.

As the Asset and the subservient one in the bond, Bucky had no choice but to walk behind Brock unless his handler's life was in danger. Then he could do anything to protect him. If it meant disobeying an order, it meant punishment later, even if he was saving his handler's life. And indeed, he had gone through that scenario before. But for some strange reason, Bucky got the feeling that Rumlow wouldn't punish him if he had to disobey an order to save him.

Bucky's eyes wandered around the corridor, looking for threats, as they continued to walk on. His ears scanned the perimeter, noting noises of gunfire on the lower floors. It appeared that Rumlow's troops had taken the upper floor. Word must have gotten out that Rumlow was the rightful leader of Hydra.

Finally, at the perimeter that Rumlow had ordered to be set, they came across the guards. Grief and sadness was on Bucky's eyes as it only reminded him of his new enslavement, but Rumlow didn't seem to have it in him to tell him to conceal his emotions, and he hadn't ordered Bucky to keep a blank expression.

Seeing the control that Brock had over Bucky, they stared at Rumlow in awe, some even dropping their jaws. It amazed them that Bucky was so obedient to him.

Rumlow acknowledged them with a nod, and they filed behind him, silently supportive of their new leader.

It was about fifty feet out that the strength of their new bond was tested. And though a young and vigorous bond it was, yet it seemed there was strength in this bond that Bucky hadn't had with his previous handlers.

Bucky felt Rumlow's excitement and felt his handler's heart rate increase, just as surely as Rumlow could feel his. Rumlow's troops were guarding the hallway that reached to the maintenance room, and the enemies stood firing back.

Bucky could feel what Rumlow wanted, something that could only happen between the Asset and his handler. The commander couldn't project feelings onto the Asset, nor could he feel the Asset's feelings. Brock was wanting Bucky to use his skills to end the fight quickly and thus save the lives of those on his side. Rumlow wanted a quick end to the bloodshed.

Bucky could tell that Brock was weakening slightly, though he was strong, and Bucky could tell that the wounds were wearing on him. He could vaguely feel the wounds that his handler had gained when still his commander.

Bucky didn't have a choice as it was impossible for him to disobey. Leaping forward, he pulled his rifle out and began sniping them all off in quick, rapid succession. Rumlow motioned his troops forward to take the cross section of the hallway. Bucky's skills pushed the enemy back, and once they had taken the cross section of the hallway, Rumlow motioned for half his troops to move to the left and down the hallway.

Once Bucky finished off the majority of them, he felt his handler wanted him near him. Using his super speed, he caught up with his handler easily. He swiftly swung his rifle over his back again, this time pulling out a knife.

Another cross section of the hallway was seen, and this time it appeared that Rumlow's troops were loosing. As depressing though the bond was for Bucky, at the same time it was exhilarating as he and Rumlow simultaneously leaped into battle beside each other, covering each other and lashing out alongside each other to clear the path. Bucky and Steve moved fluidly and flawlessly in battle, a well oiled machine. They knew each other well and how the other would move before they even did so, and thus they could compensate for one another.

But this was something else. It was pure perfection, outdoing something that even he and Steve could do together. Bucky could literally **_feel_ ** how to move and where his handler wanted him. He could feel where he was needed most, and so could Rumlow. They could both feel what each other needed in order to suceed in battle. They were one.

Slash, cut. Slash, cut. Bucky's blade moved with precision dealing death at every stroke. Rumlow didn't want him to spare the enemy's lives. He and Rumlow were a fearsome sight in battle.

As they moved fluidly, something seemed off, and as he gazed to his left, Bucky saw someone taking an aim at Rumlow. Apparently Striker must have instructed them that if they were able, they were to take Rumlow out.

Bucky couldn't explain what he felt, but because of the bond, even though it was aimed at Rumlow, he felt as though _**his**_ life was in danger. Sensing the danger from Bucky, Rumlow tried to step out of the way, but it wasn't enough, so Bucky tackled Rumlow to the floor, desperate to protect his own life, as Rumlow **_was_** his own life. It was as if they were the same person.

Rumlow in fury, the rage felt by Bucky, Rumlow shot the traitor, and together they leapt back into battle.

Together, he and Rumlow were able to push the troops back, and they all secured the hallway together.

Sighing, Rumlow motioned his top personnel to join him in a little room that Bucky realised as he stepped in was a medical wing. The doctor that had survived earlier was in a bed, knocked out as an IV moved through her. Another doctor, one that probobaly didn't have the skills to deal with the Asset, was taking care of her.

Bucky could feel Rumlow's concern as he firmly asked the man, "Brian, how is it coming?"

Brian shook his head in worry. He was young, probably around twenty three, and considering his age, he had probably had graduated school earlier if he were specialising in medicine at that age. No wonder why Hydra recruited him. "She's stable," he answered his leader. "But what we really need is medical supplies. And while this fight is going on, it's blocking off any access that we might even be able to get or any transportation to bring anything here."

Rumlow nodded, worried. It amazed Bucky the more he felt the bits and traces of what emotions leaked out of Rumlow how much Rumlow cared for the people he was over. "We need to find a way to end this soon, then," he muttered to himself, hand on his chin, thinking.

Just then, more people entered, more in the high ranks, Bucky was assuming. Bucky glanced at them, watching them and positioning himself in a protective neasure in front of Rumlow. Ultimately, Bucky was protecting himself.

Sensing his Soldier's agitation, Rumlow turned around and relaxed. Bucky did as well, knowing that the people involved weren't a threat.

The new outsiders also had some familiar faces, including Rumlow's loyal guard. They were scrutinising Bucky closely, noticing a difference in his behavior, noticing the similarities to how he behaved when he was bonded to Pierce. For his part, not being bidden to speak, and because of the bond, Bucky stayed silent, watching out for his handler.

One of the newbies, a man with medium length blond hair, continued watching Bucky warily as the others began ignoring him, instead turning to Rumlow. "Is it done?" the man asked.

Grief filled Bucky as he knew what the man was talking about. The man wanted to make sure the bond was done, that they really had a leader finally. He wanted to make sure that Bucky was properly enslaved.

Rumlow didn't respond. Instead he used his slave to perform a gesture that only a handler could do to answer the man's question. The gesture was symbolic of his ownership over Bucky. In fact it showed his ownership over Bucky. All in Hydra's upper leadership knew about the gesture and that only a handler could do it. It used to be only select few knew about Bucky. Those would know the gesture and what it meant. But now that everyone knew about Bucky, everyone in Hydra knew what the gesture was for and what it meant.

A heavy feeling of unease entered Bucky's gut as he felt what his handler wanted, but because of the bond, he was subservient and he had no choice. He couldn't even spill a tear over it even though he wanted to. Kneeling down for his part of the gesture, he finally lay tummy down on the floor, face facing away from Rumlow, hands and arms by his side. To complete the gesture, Rumlow stalked forward and put his boot lightly but firmly over Bucky's neck, symbolising his ownership of Bucky. They stayed like that for some time.

If it was anyone else, even a commander, that tried it or tried to make Bucky do it, the bond would have made Bucky kill them even if he were disobeying an order. Only a handler could do this to him, and the bond ensured that, and that he would submit to the gesture whenever his handler wanted. And because of the bond, the handler would never let anyone do this to Bucky, his personal slave, even at the cost of his own life.

The guards nodded in approval as everyone in Hydra knew that this was a gesture that only a handler could do to the Soldier as due to the bond the Soldier wouldn't let anyone else do it to him. Even the wary newcomer was nodding in approval. This was proof to them of Rumlow's new position.

Loyalty was in the main guard's eyes. "We have a new leader," he affirmed. Slapping his fist to his chest, he shoutd, "Hail Hydra!"

"Hail Hydra!" the others shouted back.

Once Rumlow had affirmed his new position and they had acknowledged it, Brock let Bucky up. The man sent comfort through the link to Bucky as he felt his Asset's emotional turmoil at having to prove his subservience and enslavement to Brock. Bucky clung to the comfort like a life line. They both knew he needed the comfort because his mind was at risk to shatter once more due to the grief the gesture caused.

"Amazing," one of the personnel whom Bucky didn't recognise but evidently recognised Bucky breathed. "I remember when Pierce bonded. He couldn't even stand on his feet. He barely walked out of the room. And yet, here you are on your feet. You must be strong indeed. A strong leader we have. Especially so since you're able to support and control the Asset so soon in the bond." The man was apprciative of Rumlow.

"Don't be too at ease," Rumlow warned them as they all looked on in appreciation. "It's not without effort. As it is, I'm going to have to rest soon for a very long while. And I'll need my wounds treated. But not right now. We have too much to do and there's no time."

"Of course," they nodded, respecting heir new leader's wishes.

Now Rumlow was onto other business. "Where are we at?" he demanded.

One of the newcomers that Bucky didn't recognise spoke up. He was a rather large redhead. "The message has been sent," he confirmed. "We just barely recieved word back from all bases. They all acknowledge you're claim to leadership in Hydra."

"And no doubt they're going to want proof," Rumlow growled. Bucky could feel how frustrated Brock was for all the trouble Striker had caused him and his new role.

"Naturally most will fall to you," a woman retorted with long, wavy hair. "Even they knew Striker's leadership claim made no sense. You're story is the only one that made sense."

"That said," another piped up. "They're going to want proof for certain, especially the regional heads of Hydra. There have been too many making a claim to leadership. They need undeniable proof."

"Perhaps the security footage," another head, a woman who was fiddling with a bracelet suggested. She glanced at Bucky. "You're gesture is enough to prove it. And regardless, even if you're weren't originally supposed to be heir, you own the Asset now, and thus you are rightful leader. Thus, if they try to argue that you siezed control illegally, you'll be able to prove that you're legally leader, even if they believe you originally seized the role illegally. They'll have no choice but to follow you."

"Though it's hard to believe that anyone will believe Striker's claim now," another man commented, with blone hair and bright brown eyes. "As said before, his claim never made sense, especially compared to yours. And knowing Pierce's interactions with you verses him, they know that you were highly favored of Pierce. It makes sense that he would name you his heir. Pierce didn't have much to do with Striker, except through strenuous conversations."

The main guard nodded. "Aye. The security footage should be footage enough. And death to anyone who disbelieves it."

Rumlow nodded. "Send the security footage to all branches of Hydra as proof then." A few nodded at him and exited to go back to battle and fulfill his order. Then the man sighed. Bucky could sense that though Rumlow could prove it, he might only grudgingly gain the loyalty of the regional heads of Hydra. They would be merely following protocal and Pierce's wishes.

Too much had happened in between the time that Pierce was leader and between Brock's leadership. Brock would have to do more to cement his leadership as absolute instead of having grudging acceptance. That he knew, and it was this that others didn't seem to realise. Brock needed to be politically cemented as well, and he needed their loyatly to be from desire to follow him, not merely because he was leader and thus had control. For some reason, Bucky sensed some political trips was in their future, or at least Brock's.

But there was also frustration and anger towards Striker that he had sabotaged his leadership. Yes, Striker was presumed heir earlier, but as Bucky was finally figuring out, because the man was heir (or so they thought) and not leader, he'd had to fight with the regional heads. In the absense of a leader it was the heir and the regional heads that ran Hydra together, though the heir presided. And somehow, though they didn't like Striker, Striker had managed to get some of his destructive policies through. But at least he'd had to fight them to get it through.

If Rumlow had been affirmed as leader immediately, none of this would have happened. He would have had absolute control over HYdra as he did now, only he would have had their willing loyalty and none of Striker's policies that had destroyed the Hydra Pierce and Rumlow wanted would have gotten through.

Silent as ever, Bucky watched the situation, accepting his position with sadness.

Rumlow decided to move on, ignoring Bucky's feelings for now. But he did send more comfort through the link, which Bucky desperately needed and clung to.

"What is the situation of the base?"

A slight smile was on everyone. "Despite the situation, and despite taking several key levels, most are loyal to you, my leader," the red haired woman responded. "We've retaken the key points of the base. It's only a matter of time before we retake the whole base. Other bases have already offered to come as soon as they've taken care of their traitors and Striker's forces in their own."

Rumlow nodded, his face serious. "And the death toll?" he dared to ask. "How many of our own have we lost?"

"Fortunately, not many," the main guard informed him. "We have the advantage of numbers, and there are many bases where Striker has no followers. They've offered to help us, to help their leader, to show their loyalty. He is at a disadvantage."

"Gordan is right," the red haired lady smirked. "Right now his forces are retreating."

Rumlow seemed to take courage at this. "I want Striker and Manning gone," he demanded. "If anyone sees either of them, they are to kill on sight." Everyone nodded. "I don't want the traitors to leave the base. Destroy them all. I will not tolerate treason."

"Unfortunately, that may not be possible," Brian informed him. "As it is, they have taken the exits in order to leave. But we still have one exit."

Rumlow nodded. "Hunt them down," he demanded. With that, Bucky felt that Rumlow wanted to move. He moved to obey, moving in a shielding and protective manner in front of Rumloe, his face carefully blank. "Meanwhile, I need to travel to one of our bases in Belgium. I have a feeling that consolidating there is the first move to make. With the chaos going on in the world, and with rumors of the threats out in space, we have a limited window of opportunity. Clean up the base here, and when you're done, send me word again. I should be resting in Belgium from the bond and getting my wounds treated. But I can last until then."

Murmurs of acknowledgment spread, and with that, Rumlow stalked out, Bucky behind him. This side of the base had already been cleared, so they began heading in the direction to the nearest garage. But as they did, Bucky felt that Rumlow wanted to make a quick detour. And with that, he led them to a little, secluded, secret hallway on the right that Rumlow opened up. To anyone else it was a wall.

Bucky guessed what was going on, based on Rumlow's feelings that had leaked to him. Pierce had left Brock one more gift for him, one more inheritance for him. And it was top secret. Only the heir was to know about it, as it was assumed that Bucky would be constantly wiped since it was natural that he would know. After all, in the little hallway, Bucky could feel something energetic in the wall.

Bucky hoped that Brock wouldn't wipe him ever. He cringed, and Brock sent comfort through the link.

Taking a deep breath, Brock pressed with his thumb on three different scattered bricks. Suddenly, one of the bricks popped out, and a box was revealed. Brock put the brick back.

Hesitantly, Brock opened the box, and Bucky's eyes widened. A blue glow shone out of the small, brown box, but Bucky couldn't see what was inside. Whatever was in there, Bucky felt an odd connection to it, and through Bucky Brock felt that connection as well. Standing behind Rumlow, Bucky couldn't see what it was, and Bucky had the feeling that Brock didn't want him to know, so he stayed back. It was at least as powerful as the Tesseract, though, but it wasn't the Tesseract. It was something different.

Rumlow shut it abruptly and hid it within his suit. He was done staring in awe at it, and now he was back to business. "Let's go," he commanded, and he led them out of the secluded secret hallway that only he and Bucky could see and that no one else knew was there. They started on their way to the garage again.

Rumlow felt Bucky's curious question. "Don't ask," the man called back. Bucky obeyed due to the bond, but he was disappointed. Brock sent him no comfort for that.

The personnel acknowledged Rumlow and saluted him as he walked past. Walking over to the lone jeep that was armed with weapons, Bucky felt that Brock wantd him to get in the passenger's side, and he obeyed.

Starting the car, Rumlow drove them out of the base. The last look Bucky had of the base before disappearing into the treeline was the soldiers tending the injured.

The battle was over.

(Steve point of view)

Distress was in Steve's face as he paced back and forth violently. The only thing on his mind was Bucky's terrified face the last time he saw him. He couldn't get the fear out of his mind that Bucky was being hurt and needed his help while Steve sat around and did nothing. The very thought of Bucky being hurt was fear inducing in his mind, and the fact that Bucky may be permanently scarred after this.

Gone were the good old days when they would laugh and joke. Gone were the good old days when Bucky was quite happy and confident with himself. But, truth be told, Steve had accepted Bucky as he was now. And now he was probably going to have to go through all of that again and accept a new Bucky after this.

Steve just wanted Bucky back safe and sound.

"Steve," the man heard someone softly and quietly call his name. "No amount of pacing is going to make a difference."

Clenching his fists and grinding his teeth, Steve growled, "Just leave me be!"

Sam, the one that had spoken, sighed. "You _**are**_ doing everything!" the exasperated man reassured him, guessing what was on his mind. "And Bucky couldn't ask for more."

"Yes he can," Steve snorted. "He can ask to be saved!"

"Which you **are** doing," Sam replied. "Not all saving is action, Steve. Investigating is part of saving too."

Steve stopped pacing the quinjet they were in and went to sit beside Sam, head in his hands. They were alone together, and though Steve knew he was straining his best friend, he couldn't help it. Bucky was his best friend to, and Bucky needed Steve. Steve couldn't feel more helpless at the moment.

Putting a hand on Steve's shoulder, Sam squeesed him slightly. "Hey, we'll find him!"

Steve had just opened his mouth to respond to Sam when suddently there were urgent footsteps coming up the ramp.

It was Natasha. She poked her head insided, her expression acute. "They've found something!" she informed them. "Quicky!"

As they quickly raced after her, Steve couldn't help the little spike of fear that tore around inside of him, preparing him for what was to come. If it was something bad, Steve didn't know what he would do.

There was a lone trailer with expensive tech inside, and as Steve stepped inside the inconspicuous white van, he noticed several moniters with footage going. Clint was inside, a sober expression on his face, standing beside amother lady with bright blonde hair who had a headset on her face. Clint was leaning on the table where her keypad was, the lady busy typing something.

As the new arrivals entered, Clint turned around. "There you are," Clint announced and the blonde lady merely glanced at them. Steve frowned and Clint sighed, though he was used to this by now.

Ignoring Clint, Steve asked the blonde woman, "What have you got for us?"

The blonde lady glanced at them again. She pursed her red lipstick lips and nodded to the screen.

Steve watched the video play before them. The lady had clearly started it over again, and Steve watched as two people bundled in winter clothes to where their faces couldn't even be seen walked slowly across the screen. One was walking in front of the other, his hands in a muffler, and the other was walking behind, one of his hands in a glove, the other in his coat pocket.

They stopped briefly, and the figure that was behind looked around, and the figure in front turned slightly, and froze as he saw the missing and wanted posters before carefully turning away.

As the other figure stopped looking around, he suddenly seemed to notice the missing and wanted posters. The figure in the muffler froze as if in fear, and Steve watched as the figure behind angrily tore off the posters and trashed them. He then roughly grabbed the figure in front of him and began forcefully pushing and bullying him along, tearing and trashing several posters along the way into the next available trash can. Meanwhile the figure in front meekly submitted to the abuse, being dragged along quite roughly. None the less, he did not appear to complain. The last they were seen was behind a red bricked abandoned building.

Steve knew he was about to tear up watching this. "Bucky," he breathed, heartbroken.

Nat gave him a sympathetic look, knowing how hard this was for him to watch.

Just then, Melanie walked into the van, grim. "I assume you saw?" she asked them upon seeing their faces.

Steve nodded, some tears in his eyes that he was desperate not to spill. "What now?" his voice shook as he asked.

A sigh of compassion escaped Melanie. "Now that we know the building where they ended up, we did some investigation. It did reveal some new footprints in a place where no one was supposed to step in for months. The place is dangerous and dilapidated. So we searched for rumors about the place. As it turns out, people have reported others coming and going there off and on. We managed to capture one who matched the description of a person reported to have been frequently visiting the place, but he's not talking."

"Now what?" Sam asked. "What do we do since interrogation isn't getting us anywhere? Or is he even Hydra?"

Shrugging, Clint let out a brief smile. "No need for him." Clint's smile was predatory. "And he's most certainly Hydra, though he's denying it." At their confused expressions, Clint explained, "He has a distinct accent that is only found in the Dornogovi province of Mongolia. All the others were reported to having an accent."

"Which means they likely took Bucky there," Steve concluded. Clint nodded.

At this point Natasha stepped forwarded. "We cross referenced it and brought up a map of known Hydra bases. There's only one in the whole country of Mongolia, as it turns out. There must not be that many who support Hydra there."

A clanking on the keyboards was heard and as Steve turned back to the blonde haired gal, Steve saw a clear map of Mongolia. But there was no Hydra base. Steve was puzzled. "Are you sure there's a base there?"

"Positive," Clint confirmed. "We've known about it for some time, but we've never been able to figure out exactly where it is."

Worried, Steve put his head in his hands. He looked up when Natasha circled a small region in the middle of the province. "We know it's out in the wild somewhere, even if we don't know exactly where. And we also know they have to travel a long region by car to get there, as it's a forest. There's no place to fly in. We've checked for that already to see if we could. That means we'll have to fly there, land, and take a vehicle to get there."

"And where exactly is 'there'?" Sam demanded, arms crossed. Neither he nor Steve seemed to be in on the new information. "It's a big area. And are there even any roads?"

"There are some roads that go somewhat into the forest, but not fairly deep. It'll be off-road from there."

"So we could be wandering miles in the jungle, but never come across them."

Clint flinched. "Unfortunately."

Natasha seemed hopeful. "It's a step in the right direction, Steve! With luck, we'll find them!"

"I don't seem to have luck on my side lately," Steve snapped, turning away in frustration.

Melanie sighed. "Black Widow is right. It's information to go on. At least we got you close..."

It took a moment, but Steve finally sighed and nodded his head. "You're right," he admitted. He was back to pondering, watching the footage of Bucky being bullied on the monitors again, his eyes swelling with tears he wouldn't let fall. The others turned around to see what he was watching and were instantly worried when the saw the footage, worried for Steve and worried for Bucky.

"I don't understand," he finally voiced after a while. He was heartbroken, they could tell, at Bucky's treatment, and confused and puzzled at the same time. His voice broke as he spoke. "Why would Bucky allow himself to be led around like that? Why would he accept the treatment? He can run away! Snap Rumlow's neck and walk away from being hurt!" Steve mourned.

Sam put a hand on Steve's shoulder. "He's confused. He's brainwashed. He doesn't know that he can walk away. And he's probably being threatened. I don't think he _**can** _ even walk away or harm Rumlow at this point."

"Stockholm Syndrome," Natasha confirmed, arms crossed as she watched the footage. "He even defended his captor and begged us not to shoot him. Rumlow took advantage of the weakness."

Melanie glanced at Natasha worriedly. "If they've managed to gain control over the Winter Soldier again, that's bad for everyone."

"We know," Clint firmly confirmed.

Finally, Steve couldn't watch anymore. He turned away, a lone tear spilling onto his face. "I'm heading to the quinjet," he announced, voice breaking, dejected in his walk.

Everyone watched him worriedly as he walked out.

(Bucky Point of View.)

Bucky did nothing but watch Rumlow at is point. "You can talk now," Rumlow announced, a force of habit as all he had to do was want it and Bucky would be able to talk again.

Bucky glanced at the scenery. There was nothing but forest around them. "Where are you taking me?" Bucky asked.

Rumlow ignored him.

Glancing over at his new master, he couldn't help the confusion he felt. Was Rumlow closing up to him again? And where did they stand now that Rumlow was his handler?

Feeling what he was going through, Rumlow cleared his throat then sighed. "If I say that I can't tell you, will that satisfy you?"

Truth be told, Bucky was never satisfied, but he supposed he could accept it. At least that meant Rumlow was still talking to him. Rumlow nodded as he felt what his Asset felt. "But what now?" Bucky then asked.

Rumlow seemed to consider as he kept both eyes on the road. "I don't know" he admitted. "There **is** a change our positions," he reminded Bucky gently, briefly glancing at him. "And in the end, I have my duty to Hydra that I must fulfill. I must be a good leader and a good handler. But other than that, I don't know."

In other words, there was a lot of room left. Hopefully, none of that meant cryofreeze. Or mind wiping. Bucky shuddered as he thought on that and Rumlow sent comfort through the link. "I think our definitions of good handler are different."

Rumlow huffed in amusement at this. Then he was serious again. "Maybe not. I don't want to harm you unless I gave to, and even then it's only for punishment."

"And... the mind wipes?" Bucky dared to ask.

A puzzled look entered Brock's face. "I don't know," he admitted. "There is a lot that I haven't decided on yet as Hydra's new leader."

"Perhaps you you could discontinue it?" Bucky begged, and a small smile graced Crossbones' features as he felt the desperation and begging that Bucky put into it.

"So desperate are you?" he murmured softly, but there was a fondness for him in his tone that Bucky had never heard before. Then the man straightened up. "Tell you what. We won't use the code words as long as you cooperate. And we won't wipe your mind as long as you are compliant. Like I said, I don't want you going through pain if it can be avoided. But this is only if you are good. If you aren't, I'll have no choice but to do so until you're compliant."

"And the cryofreeze?" Bucky was gaining a bit more confidence around Brock now. He wasn't being as mean as his other handlers had been. He was being more lenient and free with him.

Brock sighed. "Same. Besides, I can't imagine putting you in cryofreeze for a while. There's too much to do in Hydra. Too much to fix."

Bucky was hesitant at the word fix. That seemed to imply that Brock was going to use him to fix something, and he hated to think of what that meant. But at least it meant he'd be awake for a bit longer.

There were, however, still some other things that concerned Bucky.

"What are you going to do to me now?"

At this question, Brock seemed puzzled. "I don't really know," Brock admitted. "I haven't really decided. All I know is we needed to get out of that base."

"And... me? Am I going to be used to solve your politics?"

Rumlow eyed Bucky seriously. "You can't solve everything for me. Unless you have a bachelors in debate, there's not much you can do for me there, even as the Asset. With respect, kid, you're not good at public speaking."

Bucky was hesitant. "I can threaten," he replied, attempting to lighten the mood. Rumlow chuckled some, knowing that Bucky wasn't giving an offer and that he was merely making a joke, trying to make things easier. It made the atmosphere a little lighter now that he got Brock to laugh and not be so serious.

"That you can," Brock agreed. Then he was back to sincerity. "But not everything can be won by threats," was Rumlow's soft reply. "Even Pierce understood this. He taught that to me when I first came under his command. He saw my potential. In many ways he was rhe father I never had. He took me under wing, nurtured me even." Brock was wistful as he told all this to Bucky, but Bucky no longer remembered the bonding process and what had occured, let alone Brock's memories. That was normal for the bond, but Bucky knew things by instinct. This, Brock understood, being his handler.

"You miss him, don't you?" Bucky whispered.

Rumlow nodded and Bucky could tell he was trying not to cry, that he was putting on a tough face. "A lot," Rumlow admitted. Brock glanced at Bucky again, a soft smile on his face. "I was a bit of a hot head back down. Pierce told me to calm down. He taught me how to. And then he began teaching me the subtleties of politics. He taugh me how to be subtle." Rumlow sighed. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this."

"Because you trust me," Bucky realised. "Because we're bonded and you know that I can't break your confidentiality. And because you need someone to talk to about it because you can't talk to anyone else about it."

Rumlow knew the truth of his statement. He felt it. There was a brief silence after all that.

Bucky looked away and then glanced back at Rumlow. "Is my fate to serve Hydra forever?" he finally asked.

Rumlow rubbed his face. "I know this bothers you," he murmured softly. "But you have to understand that I must put Hydra first no matter what. But when all is left over, I want to make things easier for you."

"I can never serve Hydra willingly," Bucky warned.

"I know," Rumlow whispered.

Things were silent between the two of them.

(Steve Point of View)

The first few minutes of flying in the quinjet had been extremely silent. Steve sat by himself in a corner, looking dejected. There was a sad frown on his face as he seemingly pondered.

Natasha moved from where she was at to sit beside him. Putting a hand on his shoulder gently, he stirred and looked at her. His eyes were so sad, he knew, but he couldn't help it. Her face fell when she saw this.

"We've almost got him back," she reassured him.

Steve looked away. "It's a large territory. The chances that we come across them are slim. We could drive around for days and not even find the base."

Closing her eyes briefly for a minute she sighed. "At the least, we've reported it to the authorities. Rumlow can't go anywhere in public with Bucky without being recognised. They're on high alert."

"He may not need to," Steve whispered. "They can keep him in the base indefinitely."

"Not necessarily," Natasha's face twitched. "Even they have to restock their bunkers some time. As it is, the Mongolian government is scanning with their satellites to see if they can narrow the area down for us."

"They didn't even report a quinjet coming in," Steve folded his arms and then rested his head in one of his hands. "There's no guarantee that they can find it."

"The quinjet has cloaking capabilities, so that isn't surprising," Natasha murmured. "But a base is going to be huge. It's awfully hard to cloak something like that and of that size. Chances are it's hidden by other means. That means, now that we know the vicinity, perhaps there's something that they can do to try to find an anomaly."

"But didn't you say that they've been trying to find that base for over a year?"

"And we have a hostage now," Natasha acknowledged. "While it's true that they've been trying hard to find it, the stakes have been risen now that they have Bucky. Nobody wants Bucky in Hydra's custody. With his skill set, it's not in anyone's interests."

"She's right," Clint called out from flying the quinjet beside Sam. For once, Steve didn't frown or say or do anything because of Clint's hand in getting Bucky captured. He stayed still and listened seriously. "They'll be working double time on this with his life and sanity on the line. As it is, they have a doctor and a psychologist on stand by for when we find him. They also have a med unit standing by in case he's injured. And they're going to want to make sure he's calm. They want to help him psychologically any way that they can. It's a lot to go through."

"They're also in communication with the US government," Sam added. "They're going to cooperate with getting him home so that he can be safe and get the help he needs."

"And how are you guys getting all this information while I've gotten none of it?" Steve demanded.

Suddenly, everyone was fidgeting in discomfort. As both Clint snd Natasha looked to Sam to explain, as he was the closest to a psychologist, Sam sent them an annoyed look. Sighing, he replied, "All right! All right!" Glancing briefly behind him in order to gauge Steve, Sam admittd, "You've been so out of it and so distracted with the whole ordeal that Melanie finally communicated with us and us alone. She also made sure to recommend to Mongolia and the United States that all of the communication is to be directed to us. She understands, they all do. It's a lot to go through."

Truth be told, Steve was a bit annoyed upon hearing is. But he could see where Sam was coming from. He was compromised by his emotions and had been very snappy with people. Perhaps it was for the best. After all, if he were in their shoes, he would have done the same thing.

But that didn't mean that he was happy about it. "Fine!" he snapped. "But after we get Bucky back, I'm in charge again!"

Everyone nodded quickly, not wanting to anger an angry super soldier, especially one who was in a protective mode.

"Absolutely," Natasha agreed. "After all, it is your right as Bucky's guardian." And that part was also true, even legally. As Bucky's designated guardian, Steve had the right to make decisions for Bucky. And it might be needful after they got him as they had no idea what kind of state Bucky was going to be in.

"We're almost to Dornogovi," Clint announced. "I'm setting this bird down."

(A few minutes later)

To say that the jeep they'd chosen was uncomfortable was an understatement. But at least it was heavily armed.

The Mongolian government had provided them with a jeep with state of the art equipment. They were allowing them to go in first in order to scout the area.

It was a very hot day, and unfortunately the vehicle didn't have air conditioning. It made them all uncomfortable as they perspired.

Only Steve seemed to be the least uncomfortable. That was partially because of the serum, but it was also because he had grown up in a day where air conditioning didin't exist or wasn't as widely spread, therefore he wasn't as bothered by the lack of it.

As the others squirmed around, Steve pulled out an old fashioned map. Clint looked at him like he was crazy. "We don't need that! We've got GPS!"

Steve snorted. "The last time I used one of those, the _**only**_ tine I used one of those, was when Bucky and I went camping. Tony was so insistent, and supplied us, so I agreed. Well, we got lost in a forest that it led us to, and Bucky wasn't too happy about it. Our car broke down and we had to hike many miles for several days just to get bakc to the nearest city. We vowed to never use another GPS again."

Clint was working hard to keep from laughing, and Sam turned to Steve in surprise. Natasha was also slightly smiling. Steve glared. "Yeah," Clint acknowledged. "I heard about that, Tony mentioned that and said he never wanted to get Bucky lost accidentally again. He said Bucky was frightening."

"And I did nothing to stop him," Steve admitted. "I wasn't too happy about it myself, and I knew Bucky wouldn't harm Tony too badly. He just wanted to scare him a little."

"Well, Tony was pretty scared," Natasha admitted. Leave it to a spy to find out the what the ordinary couldn't find out. "I hear Bucky wasn't too happy that he had to rely on survival skills just to get back to the city with you. As it is, when you guys showed up at the tower looking ragged, Tony immediately guessed what happened and nearly peed his pants."

Steve shook his head. "Technology is not the best for everything."

Everyone frowned at how old fashioned he was. "It's not always like that, you know. GPS can be very useful," Clint argued. He sighed, and then there was a sudden silence.

Steve watched as the scenery changed, and the forest flying by around him. And then finally, Clint pulled them off road. "The road was destroyed in some rains. It'll be a little bit before we have pavement again," Clint informed the crowd. "But don't worry. I know where we're headed."

"You'd better," Steve growled. "I don't want to get lost because of a GPS again. That's the last then I need when we're trying to find Bucky."

Rolling his eyes, Clint huffed, "Relax. We'll be fine."

"We'd better," Steve growled again.

It took them a few hours to find the road again. They travelled on it for about ten minutes. But right as they did, another vehicle was seen in the distance.

"What is that?!" Steve exclaimed.

Natasha frowned. "What is what?"

Evidently, Steve could see further than the group because of the serum. "There's a vehicle in the distance coming right at us."

Clint frowned. "Hang on, everyone."

(Bucky Point of View)

Silence had filled the cabin of the vehicle at both Rumlow's and Bucky's declarations. The more than two days worth of driving was taking a toll on them, and they'd only stopped for sleeping, taking turns guarding where they were at, eating, and bathroom breaks in the bushes. Bucky found himself glad that they had soap and water as part of their rations in the vehicle. And he could feel from Rumlow that they were almost out of the forest. Perhaps it would take another days worth of driving.

It was as if they were at an impasse, although it wasn't a true impasse, Bucky realised, since Rumlow could actually force Bucky to do whatever he wanted, even if Bucky didn't want to do it. But Bucky could also tell that Brock was frustrated that he didn't have Bucky's allegiance in the end. Bucky knew that Brock had hoped that Bucky would come around.

But Brock was also aware of the reason Bucky felt he couldn't join Hydra. He could feel his precious Asset's emotional turmoil.

It also didn't help that Bucky felt a strong longing to join Hydra, just as much as Rumlow felt a strong desore to flee from Hydra and to help to destroy Hydra. The bond made it as if they were one person. Bucky was starting to have trouble telling if some of the things he felt were his own feelings or Brock's feelings, and he could tell that Brock was having the same trouble. Where their own feelings ended and where the other person's feelings began was becoming harder and harder to tell the more the bond increased. He wondered how long it would be until they couldn't differentiate and their very personalities blended together.

How much of his own self Bucky had left, he didn't know. But he vaguely recalled that it was very similar with his previous handlers. He had been able to feel their feelings so strongly that he thought it was his own, and for the most part he didn't really have his own feelings, except on occasions. One of those instances was when he was confused after seeing Steve and he'd asked his handler who Steve was. His handler, Pierce had immediately felt his Asset's turmoil and had tried to dissuade him otherwise. Then he had used the mind wipe as a last resort when he had failed.

Due to the fact that he could feel his handler's emotions because Brock couldn't control them and they seeped out and he didn't usually have emotions of his own, it made him very easy to be led around by his handler. But for some strange reason, there was something different about this bond, and they both felt it.

"Barnes," Rumlow whispered gently. "Whatever happens, you should know that I'll do my best to protect you and comfort you. Yes, you're going to have to do difficult things. It's what you were designed for. But I could never send you into a situation where I knew you would die for certain. You know that. And I'll comfort you when you're required to do those difficult things."

"Can I even be comforted?" Bucky mourned. "I don't think there is any way you could actually alleviate me."

"Not necessarily." And Bucky could tell that Rumlow was hopeful. But Bucky felt that it was a vain hope, and Bucky knew that Rumlow knew he felt that way.

Silence filled the space of the vehicle for a few minutes again, and sudenly Bucky spotted something in the distance because of his superior eyesight. Though Rumlow couldn't see it, he was immediately alarmed. Bucky fidgeted uncomfortably.

Turning to Rumlow, he asked, "Is there supposed to be something out this way?"

Rumlow shook his head. "No. Whoever they are, they're not Hydra and they're not invited. Thank goodness we're several days away from the base."

"An enemy then?" Bucky murmured softly. 'Or rescue,' he secretly thought, but due to his feelings, Rumlow guessed what his thoughts were and he sent a brief glare at him.

"You're _**not**_ being rescued, no matter what," Brock firmly reprimanded him, and they were back to business again. "Now I can't see them yet. I want a description of what we're up against."

Bucky frowned. "It's an armed vehicle, a jeep like ours. It's camouflaged and heavily armed." To his surprised, Rumlow didn't turn off the road and kept on riding. "We can't evade them on the road," Bucky pointed out.

"I know," Rumlow informed him grimly. "I don't intend to. Whoever this is, they're intending to head towards my base and I won't have it. I intend to confront them."

Bucky shrunk in his seat trying to make himself smaller, and he remained silent.

Rumlow had an expression that Bucky couldn't decipher, nor could Bucky decipher his emotions. "Disarm yourself," Rumlow finally ordered him, and Bucky obeyed, the vehicle still out there. "Throw your weapons and anything that can be used as a weapon far enough out of reach to where you can't get to it." Subservient as ever and having no choice, Bucky did as he was ordered.

"Remove your combat gear," Rumlow continued to instruct him. Bucky obeyed. Suddenly he felt a little chilly having only his shirt and cargo pants on. After he removed the weapons from his boots, he replaced his shoes. "Toss it to where you can't reach it."

Bucky despately wanted to ask Rumlow what he was doing, but because of the bond, he wasn't able to. He could only obey. But he knew as clear as day that Rumlow could feel his question. But the man chose not to respond, and through the bond Rumlow wasn't letting Bucky ask questions. Bucky couldn't decipher the man's emotions or expressions either in an attempt to try to figure out what he was up to.

"Be still and quiet," was Rumlow's final order. He stopped the vehicle and parked it.

The vehicle came closer and closer and finally the other vehicle stopped some distance away. As Bucky saw Steve staring out the other windshield at him, he gasped and was suddenly frightened.

Rumlow was angry, his lips in a hard line. "I hate Avengers!" he hissed, pure fury in his voice.

Opening his door, he grabbed Bucky roughly by the back of the nape of his shirt and pulled him clear over the gears, over his seat and out the door on his end. Bucky whimpered at the rough treatment and he was a little suprised at Crossbones' strength. As Bucky landed outside the vehicle he hit his knees hard and Rumlow roughly yanked him up. If there was anything that Bucky had noticed about Rumlow it was that the man was only ever rough and harsh with him when he was around any Avengers or it was about any Avengers. Something about them aggravated him.

Grabbing a gun swiftly, Rumlow yanked Bucky's arm and made him walk forward, his gun aimed at Bucky's head. It would be an instant kill if he decided to pull the trigger, but both Bucky and Rumlow knew that it would be impossible for Rumlow to do it with the bond, even though this bond felt different. He was pulling another bluff. But that didn't mean that Bucky wasn't terrified, because he was. Rumlow sent him no comfort.

They stopped walking, Rumlow having a firm grip on Bucky's arm, the gun pointed at his head in precision.

Steve's face was fixed in horror, and all the Avengers were out of the vehicle. Clint had his bow drawn, Natasha had her guns pointed, and so did Falcon. Even Steve was armed with a gun, but his was down in shock.

Rumlow sneered, his rage and fury barely contained. It was curious to Bucky that most of Brock's anger and rage was directed at Steve. "Well, isn't this a lucky surprise?!"

Despite Rumlow's nasty look and Bucky's apparent precarious position, Bucky could tell that Steve was trying to calm himself. "Don't do this," Steve begged, eyeing Bucky with care and fear. Rumlow pressed the gun to Bucky's head more and Bucky whimpered. He was unable to contain his expressions of fear and he could tell that this was affecting Steve and Steve's ability to think straight.

"Why not?" Rumlow taunted him. "After you dropped that building on me? Why should I let your Bucky go?" Roughly pushing the gun in more, Bucky whimpered, his expressions of terror increasing. "Or live?" Rumlow added as a taunt.

"That's what this is about?!" Steve huffed in pain and fear. "Rumlow, you made your decision siding with a terrorist organization. And as I should point out, you tried to kill me!"

Rumlow's grip on the gun tightened. "You were in the way," Rumlow huffed.

"You were part of a corrupt organization," Natasha pointed out.

Rumlow laughed in anger. "Corrupt?!" he mocked. "Really? Should you talk?" And then with a sneer he looked at Steve. "At least I know about loyalty. As for you, your very government betrayed you with the Accords trying to control you in the name of safety. They violated your rights and tried to take away what you call your human rights, issued an illegal kill order on the Asset, allowed enforcement of an illegal law and tried to enforce it when your Congress never approved nor passed that very law. And you talk about corruption? Your government doesn't need Hydra. It's riddled with corruption and illegal acts!"

"You're talking as if you're not an American," Steve whispered.

Laughing, Rumlow affirmed. "I'm Hydra. That's where my loyalty lies. And you want to talk about Hydra being corrupt? Maybe I should leak a lot of the dirt that your politicians, including Ross, carry around. Still want to walk around blind, Rogers? Wake up!"

An unusual expression clouded Steve's face. "Yeah, I know that _**our** _ country isn't what it used to be. I know that there are corruptions beyond Hydra. I know that senators and politicians only do their own will and desire and not what the people want. I also know that human rights are violated every day, not just in our own country, but around the world. That I can agree on. I've seen it with my own eyes. But you can't fight corruption with corruption, Rumlow. It will only tear the country down and in the end, nothing will get accomplished."

"Sometimes starting with a clean slate is needful," Brock snarked. His hand was still steady on the gun.

Steve now had a pleading look on his face. "If it's revenge you want, take it out on me, not Bucky! I'll even let you kill me!"

'No!' Bucky felt, his distress increasing, but Rumlow was unyielding, unmerciful.

Steve continued in desperation, "But Bucky's never done anything to you. Let him go!"

"Steve!" Clint cautioned. The rest of the team looked concerned but Steve was unyielding.

Anger filled Brock's gaze. Bucky couldn't decipher his emotions, but he wondered if Brock was actually considering Steve's offer.

Bucky breathed heavily, not sure how this was going to go down. "Please," Steve pleaded again, pure love for his brother seen clearly in his eyes.

Something changed in Brock's demeanor, that Bucky could feel despite the fact that Brock was behind him. His very body language softened, his anger dissipating, a form of gentleness on his features.

"Still changes nothing," Brock whispered finally. "But I don't need your offer. I won't stoop to that level." And that's when Bucky knew that Rumlow couldn't kill Steve because of Bucky's brotherly love for Steve. It prevented him from being able to do it.

Sighing, Brock let the gun down and stepped away from Bucky. A shocked expression covered Bucky's face. Was Rumlow letting him go?

Brock eyed Steve heavily with a sigh. "I'll give you fifteen minutes to get out of here. After that I'll blast you and your friends to bits if you're still here."

Surprise was on everyone's face and Bucky was frozen in shock. He wasn't the only one either. Steve was standing there as if he couldn't believe that the very man who had kidnapped Bucky was suddenly willing to let him go. Natasha was supsicious as if this was some sort of trick. She and Clint seemed to wonder if this was a way to let their guards down.

But other feelings were stirring inside Bucky that he hadn't expected. He and Rumlow were bonded. Did that mean he had displeased his handler? Did Rumlow not want him anymore? Was he abandoning Bucky? Bucky knew they weren't rational thoughts, but he couldn't help it as the feelings of abandonment spread. He didn't seem to know how to cope without his handler present. He'd never had to cope like this before when he'd had a handler before.

Bucky looked back, uncertain. Brock nodded. "Go on," Brock encouraged him and stepped forward to gently nudge him in Steve's direction.

It felt as if half of his being was being torn away, and Bucky was sure the seperation was going to kill him. Looking back for reassurance once more to make sure that this was what his handler really wanted, Bucky began walking forward slowly.

Bucky stepped forward inch by inch, and when he was close enough, Steve opened his arms, and Bucky walked into them, trembling. He continued to tremble, facing away from Brock, and finally he heard Rumlow's vehicle start and the man drove away. Bucky was aware as the distance seperated them.

Bucky felt devastated.

He was numb as Steve gently guided him to the vehicle, still in shock. Steve buckled him in. Sam was sitting next to him. Then the engine started, and Clint turned them around. They were headed home. Bucky was finally headed home.

It was all too much for him to handle. He'd been through too much trauma.

Bucky couldn't help it. He began weeping openly, his cries loud, strained, and agonized as his feelings overwhelmed him. He let all of his emotions flow out of him in anguish.

Steve gently tugged Bucky closer to him, letting Bucky rest on his shoulder as he wept harder and harder with no sign of stopping.

"It'll be all right," Steve reassurred him. "It'll be all right, Bucky. We're headed home."

 **Please review.**


	10. Chapter 10: Aftermath

**This is the final chapter. The first chapter of the sequel is posted. It is called If Only You Would Understand Me.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **I don't own Captain America.**

Chapter Ten: Aftermath

(Steve Point of View)

Distress and grief filled Steve as he waited outside in the corridoor. He was currently standing in Hartford's Mental Health Clinic, a Federal hospital, as he waited for Bucky to complete his interview. Bucky was currently under the review of many doctors, medical and mental, after his terrible ordeals at Hydra's hand.

The past few months after Bucky had been returned by Rumlow from Hydra's clutches had been stressful. It was as if Bucky was trying to hang on that whole ride home and to his room in Steve's house. The only thing that Steve could do for him was to hold him.

Steve had sent him to bed, gently tucked him in, (Bucky was so tired that he didn't even bother changing and Steve didn't blame him), and waited until he fell asleep.

The next few days Steve did nothing but observe Bucky. It was like Bucky was trying desperately to hold on, the way he was acting. He refused to talk about what had happened, and Steve was fine with it. In a way it was frustrating, because Steve knew the legal side of things and that eventually Bucky would have no choice but to talk since he was witness to the whole ordeal.

But finally, it was like Bucky couldn't hold on anymore. He snapped.

Steve couldn't even begin to explain the horrible ordeal that had followed after that. Bucky had gone crazy. There was no coherentness in his thoughts or his demeanor. It was like he didn't understand a thing Steve said or did. What was even more disconcerting though was how aggressive, dangerous, and violent Bucky had become. Several times he had tried to kill Steve, but Steve could tell that it wasn't Bucky in there. It wasn't really the Winter Soldier either. He had gone crazy.

It was emotionally hard on Steve, but he'd had no choice but to tie Bucky up and restrain him because of how dangerous he'd become. Mentally he wasn't even with it as Steve whispered soft words of pity and reassurances that things would get better as Steve held Bucky down while Natasha calmly injected an experimental sedative that Banner had designed on emergency for the situation. Bucky was then taken to Tony's tower, surprisingly, and was put in a isolated room that was Hulk proof. It proved to be dangerously ineffective.

At least once a month he escaped and was missing for a week. It was a nightmare trying to find him. And they weren't even sure how Bucky was escaping to begin with. Even Friday, who monitored the tower, was not able to figure it out, as somehow Bucky was disabling her shortly before he escaped.

Whenever they would finally find Bucky, it was a nightmare trying to coax him back to the tower. Steve would speak soft words of encouragement to him, and try to gently lead away. Then Bucky would resist and Steve would restrain him all the while Bucky would scream, "NO! NO!" Natasha would then inject him with the sedative and they'd take him back to the tower.

When Bucky was at the tower, trapped behind reinforced glass that was never broken whenever Barnes would escape, Steve was with him ninety nine percent of the time. He just couldn't leave his best friend alone who was clearly suffering. But Bucky would never respond, going into a catatonic stare. He even refused to eat. Sometimes he would moan and rock back and forth, seemingly unaware of anything that Steve said.

The second month after Bucky had been locked in the tower, guards constantly out the door, federal personnel had arrived stating that they wanted Bucky's first hand account of what had happened. Unfortunately, Steve had had to disappoint them.

"Very well," the lead man in a business suit reluctantly replied. He was bald with a beard. "But as soon as he's mentally capable, we need to take care of this. As it is we may have a hard time capturing the responsible persons because so much time has past. And his witness is needed on record since kidnapping is a federal crime."

"I know," Steve whispered softly, sadly. As it was, Clint was spending some time behind some locked doors preparing for trial for his hand in Bucky's kidnapping. He had taken Bucky illegally out of country without permission, and it was made worse by the fact that Bucky was forbidden to leave the country and Clint knew that.

Last Steve heard, Clint was being interrogated about what had gone down. Clint seemed remorseful that this had happend to Bucky, but Steve could care less. Steve was still mad that Bucky was stuck in this mentally ill catatonic and violent state because Clint had not kept Bucky home like he was supposed to.

He didn't really care what happened with Clint, despite Natasha's constant reassurances that Clint's behavior was odd. All Steve knew was that Clint was going to face trial and Steve and Bucky if he was able were going to be required to testify. Chances are Black Widow and Falcon would be testifiying as well, being witnesses to some of the things that occured. Plus Steve had confided in them.

Bucky, Steve was relieved, had no charges pressed against him. After all, he wasn't considered mentally competent enough to make the decision. He was considered mentally unable to understand the decisions he was making, and thus he had a guardian. Plus they looked on it as Clint decieving him and playing with his emotions while in a mentally ill state, thus rendering him unable to truly understand the inpact of his decision. After all, that was why he'd had a guardian in the first place, that was one of the reasons. And it was so obvious and made sense to Steve that he didn't even know why he'd been so concerned about Bucky being legally in trouble to begin with.

Gradually, Bucky's behavior began changing, though he still escaped for a week once a month, puzzling a confused Friday. And then Bucky started coming back to himself, grief taking precedence on his features.

Finally, the violent side of Bucky had calmed down and he was more clear headed. But the depression and grief remained. Friday and Tony released Bucky and they headed back home.

The federal authorities were glad to follow Steve's request that Bucky be given a chance to adjust to being back home and to deal with the trauma that he'd been through as well as mentally prepare himself for the interrogation that would follow. They gave him three weeks.

As the first order of business, the Federal courts had Bucky go through a mental and medical evaluation. And thus Steve was sitting in the hallway of Hartford's Mental Health clinic waiting for the slightest indication that Bucky was in distress. They had requested to be alone with him during the interrogation, but Steve had refused as guardian.

Their insistsnce was that they needed to evaluate him without Steve's support which could hinder them getting an accurate reading on his mental state by having someone supporting him. Finally, after much bargaining, Steve reluctantly agreed, provided that the first moment Bucky appeared to be distressed, or if he heard Bucky distressed, or should Bucky shout his name, he was going back in the room to comfort Bucky. They agreed. They didn't want to face a mentally unstable Winter Soldier alone. It was for everyone's safety.

So far, surprisingly, Bucky seemed to be doing well.

Steve sighed. He wasn't sure for how long these interrogations were going to last. Several times, he had heard Bucky shouting at them, but so far it hadn't reached a point where he felt he needed to intervene.

Finally, after about three hours, the door opened and Bucky stepped out, pale.

Steve immediately put his arms around Bucky in a comforting hug. Bucky, for his part, buried his head in Steve's shoulder, clinging to the comfort like it was the only way to keep him from drowning and dying. Soft sobs spilled into his throat, and as the other members of the board that interrogated filed past them, giving sad looks of pity, Steve glared at them for the distress they had caused his best friend.

Nodding to them curtly, he replied tersely, "We'll meet you upstairs shortly. Give us some time." They nodded and left.

Bucky continued crying into his shoulder, and Steve gripped him tighter. They stayed that way for some time, Steve gently hushing him and rocking him back and forth.

"How was it?" Steve finally asked Bucky after after he'd calmed down a bit.

Chest heaving, a few more sobs escaping him, Bucky pulled back, unable to look Steve in the eyes. "I never want to go through that again," Bucky whispered.

Steve still had a hold on Bucky's arms and he squeesed both gently. "I'm here," Steve murmured.

He let Bucky calm down a bit more, keeping a gentle hold on him, until Bucky was finalky able to brave going upstairs. But as they did so, Bucky paled. "I don't want to be examined," Bucky whispered to Steve, fear and horror in his eyes. "Just take me home. I'm done here. I don't want to go through anymore today. Please don't let them do this to me." His steps faltered more with each passing second. Finally, he was pulling against Steve, unwilling to go forward anymore. "I don't wanna go through this. Take me home, Steve."

Stopping briefly, Steve kept his arms around Bucky's shoulders and gave a gentle squeese. "Bucky you have to do this," Steve murmured in compassion. "I wish you didn't have to, but you do. The federal courts have required it. It's for evidence. Neither you nor I have any say in this."

"But why today?!" Bucky complained. "They delayed this in the past all ready. What's a few more days or a few more weeks?"

While keeping a grip on Bucky, Steve moved in front of him and used one finger to force Bucky to meet his eyes because Bucky didn't seem to be able to do so. "Hey," Steve whispered, his tone soft. "Bucky, they've already delayed so much already. Most of the evidence will be gone. You heal so fast that the injuries or scars that they should have documented for evidence and will help your case to get justice will already be gone.

"When they were treating your wounds after they got you back, they weren't examining you in an official manner needed for evidence. It was emergency treatment. But for now that will have to do. And then you weren't in a position to be examined for a while. As it is, maybe there's something left over that they can still catch for evidence in the court to prosecute your abductors. If there is, we need to take that chance before it disappears, and it might help us treat you in the future."

"I still don't want to!" Bucky cried. "I don't care if they don't get the evidence! They have enough already! Let's go home!"

Steve frowned slightly, gently. "They say they don't. Besides, the courts have ordered this and for this to be done as soon as possible. This is a Federal investigation, Bucky. We can't say no."

Bucky cried after this, leaning into Steve's arms, and finally, he allowed himself to be led upstairs. They crossed the carpeted corridor, passed some of the rooms on the left and right side of the hallway, and towards a male nurse dressed in blue scrubs who was waiting outside an open door in the hallway. His cinnamon deoderant wafted over to them, and Bucky glanced at the examination room that he still couldn't see into warily.

"They're waiting for you," the nurse informed them, casting Bucky a compassionate glance, especially since Bucky had an expression of pure distress on his face. He clung to Steve tightly.

"Please don't make me do this," he begged Steve again.

And Steve squeesed him gently again, reassuring him. "I'll help you through this," he promised his best friend solemly, trying to be the strong leader that Bucky needed right now. "I won't leave your side, I promise you that."

Gently squeesing him to give him reassurance again, Steve led Bucky into the examination room. Bucky sobbed slightly, and Steve could tell that it was triggering for Bucky. It reminded him too much of his time with Hydra.

The walls were too white, too hospital like. The lone examination table that was long and wide enough to have Bucky lie down comfortably on it was plush but firm. However, it was still a hospital bed. There was a poster on the ceiling for Bucky to look at.

Bucky cringed. It was too much. Tears streamed down his face and he held onto Steve tighter, shaking his head. "I don't want to do this!" the nervousness and fear bleeding through his voice.

The nurse moved behind him and grabbed a gown out of the cabinet in the corner of the room that was above a rather shiny looking sink. He tried to hand it to Bucky, but Bucky cringed away. It reminded him too much of Hydra. The nurse motioned to the bathroom door that was shut on the far side of the room. "Take everything off and put this on," he instructed.

Steve used his free arm that wasn't holding onto the shaking Bucky to grab the hospital gown. Then the nurse left the room, after glancing sympathetically at Bucky, shutting the door behind him.

The man was back to shaking his head again. "No!" he whispered again. "Don't make me do this, Steve!"

Sighing a little, Steve guided him to the table so that he could remove his grip from Bucky. "Let's just get this over with as quickly as possible, okay?"

Sobbing slightly, gripping the examination table, Bucky finally relented and reluctantly took the hospital gown to go change in the bathroom.

After a few minutes, as Bucky was changing, Steve heard a knock on the door. "Can we come in?" one of the male doctors asked. It was the voice of one of the same doctors that had been in the room downstairs interviewing Bucky.

Steve sighed, worn out from the long day. "Give us a few more minutes," he instructed, wincing as he thought on Bucky's struggles to come.

"We'll wait outside until you tell us to come in," the doctor informed him.

"'Kay," Steve said only with enough volume for them to pick it up. Then he put his head in his hands.

It took a few more minutes, but finally Bucky emmerged, having left his clothes in the bathroom visibly on the floor. The hospital gown on him was tied on the back and he trudged dejectedly towards the table, shaking lightly.

After he had settled himself comfortably on the table, Steve gently squeesed his best friend's shoulders. "You're doing the right thing," he reassured him. All Bucky did was nod, staring straight forward, not able to look Steve in the eyes.

"You okay?" Steve asked for reassurance, but Bucky shook his head. Sighing in sadness, he informed Bucky, "I'm going to let them come in. That all right with you?"

"No," Bucky replied. "But it's not like I have a choice."

"Hey," was Steve's soft, reassuring tone. He lifted Bucky's chin up so that the man could look him in the eyes. "You always have a choice."

"Do I?" Bucky issued in challenge. "You say that and yet I'm forced to do this."

Steve's heart broke. "Bucky-"

"Just get this over with!" Bucky gritted his teeth, closing his eyes as he clenched both fists, warping the table slightly on the left.

Sighing, Steve complied. "Okay!" he called out, swallowing the bile in his stomach that perhaps this would be too hard on Bucky and he hated that he had no choice in this either, despite being Bucky's guardian.

"I like your other girfriend better," Bucky frowned, thinking how Sharon would have talked Steve out of this. Natasha didn't but had supported Steve's decision to get it out of the way. "Why did you break up with her?"

Steve sighed. "She broke up with me."

Bucky shivered as the doctors came in, all of them who were in on the mental reviewing. Steve stood closer and placed a hand on his shoulder, and Bucky scooted closer to him. The doctors watched, clinically observing him.

Some nurses walked in and as Bucky saw the needles, he moaned, glancing at Steve in fear. "The first order lf business," one of the doctors informed him. "Is we need to do a blood test. We're testing for any residual chemicals or drugs that may have been in your system from Hydra. But, in all reality, with the way your metabolism runs, it may well be out of your system."

"Then why test?" Bucky complained.

"Because we may still find something," the doctors informed him gently. Waiting for permission, Bucky nodded with his head down and they stepped forward. But when they procurred the needles for a blood draw, he whimpered. It was too close to his time with Hydra.

"Hey," Steve encouraged him. "Look at me! Don't pay attention to them!" He squeesed Bucky on the shoulders gently, and maintained eye contact with his friend. When the doctors saw him looking away, they strapped the rubber band around his arm and then proceeded with the blood draw.

Bucky flinched as the needle came in. "You all right, sergeant?" the doctor asked.

Sighing and looking away still, Bucky shook his head. "Just get it over with."

It was hard on Steve as he watched his friend struggle with ordinary, simple things like a blood draw, an after effect of the trauma he'd endured. Next, they checked Bucky's reflexes before taking his pulse, blood pressure, temperature, and ordinary things.

The next part was more difficult on Bucky.

"How long until we get results?" Steve asked.

The doctor sighed. "No more than two weeks most. Probably three days since this is a federal case."

Bucky shuddered. Nervously, he glanced at Steve who reassured him with a soft squeese on the shoulder.

The doctor reached for a pair of blue gloves. Shivering, Steve noticed his friend's distress and as the doctor turned he was concerned as well. "Sergeant?" he questioned.

"Bucky?"

As Steve placed a reassuring hand on his best friend's shoulder, Bucky suddenly lashed out with a scream and started to dart for the door. But Steve caught his fist and proceeded to tackle Bucky, restraining him as the man screamed with all he had, his eyes hazed and unclear.

"Shh, Bucky," Steve tried to reassure him. The doctors stepped back and out of the way, nervous, scared. Bucky struggled against him and Steve continued in a soft whisper, "You're not there anymore. You're not with Hydra. They can't hurt you anymore. You're safe Bucky. No one's going to hurt you."

He continued to whisper reassuring promises into Bucky's ears, and slowly, Bucky's eyes gained focus and he stopped struggling, sobbing. He leaned into Steve and let him hold him, his sobbings continuing.

Bucky's eyes landed on the doctors, sheer fear on his features, and Steve whispered more reassurances to him. Slowly, Bucky relaxed minutely, and after a few moments he stood up.

The doctors had concern on their features after witnessing his panic attack. Taking off their blue gloves, the doctors reassured him, "If it's too much to do, we can continue tomorrow, give you a break. You don't have to push through this all at once."

Bucky cringed away and Steve draped his arm over his best friend's shoulder, beginning to guide him away. "That's a good idea. What do you say, Bucky?"

Bucky took one look at the blue gloves still draped in the doctor's hands, and Steve knew what he was going to say. "But I'm still going to have to come back to it, aren't I?" Shivering, he leaned into Steve. "Let's get this over with," was his soft decision.

Sighing softly, Steve led Bucky back to the table. There was no changing his best friend's decision, and he respected Bucky too much for that. That, and he thought it was for the best anyway, that way Bucky wouldn't have to go through this twice. Then, hopefully, he could stay home with Steve without interruption for a while.

Sitting on the exam table, Bucky nodded to the doctors, letting out a shaky breath. "Sorry," he gave a small smile.

The doctor smiled reassuringly back. "No need. You've gone through a lot. It's only natural that there comes a point when things get too much." Bucky's face fell at that.

This time, Bucky gripped Steve's wrist tight as the doctors approached, softly whimpering slightly. "You don't have to do this now, you know," Steve reminded Bucky. "If they said it could wait, it can wait."

The doctors waited for Bucky's decision. "Get it over with," Bucky gritted his teeth, looking down.

Sighing, the doctors continued. "We'll keep you covered," the doctors reassured him. "But we need to check you and document any scars or injuries, especially new ones."

"The serum heals me. There won't be any new scars," Bucky warily informed them.

The doctors' expressioned softened. "It's standard procedure. We're required to check you for signs of physical abuse." Bucky shuddered but nodded. "We'll start simply, okay? And if you get overwhelmed, let us know and we'll stop and give you a break." Bucky looked down and nodded again.

Stepping forward slowly, so as not to frighten him, they spoke gently, and softly, always informing him of what they were going to do before they did it and warning him before they touched him, Gently undoing the top of the dressing gown, they had him lay down on his stomach and they examined his back, noting with concern the scars he had around his medal arm. A nurse took notes of what the doctor said.

"These are old. Do you remember recieving them?" they asked. Bucky shook his head. Some of the thoughts were unclear and muddy, and he couldn't focus on the traumatising memory of when he recieved them. They lightly felt down his spine to make sure his vertabrae were in line, noting a few discs out of place still. There was concern on their featured. Bucky shuddered, and he flinched as they felt around the muscles close to the area.

"The way these muscles are out, this could only have come from being pulled hard near your neck and then dropped roughly." Bucky shuddered. Rumlow's doing. It had to have been when he spotted Steve that final time. It didn't hurt terribly, it was primarily frightening, but Steve remembered Rumlow hissing in pain when he saw him doing it and hoped the guy pulled a few muscles from doing that to Bucky.

They felt a bit more, concern on their faces as they felt near Bucky's shoulder blade and right shoulder, and they moved down near his ribs on the right side, apparently feeling something. "Were you hit repeatedly here?" they asked Bucky in concern, jotting down what they noted. Bucky merely buried his head in the pillow, unwilling to respond.

"Bucky?" Steve prompted.

"I don't know," was Bucky's dull, muffled voice, void of any emotions.

Steve's heart fell. Whatever had happened, Bucky didn't want to fess up to anything.

The main doctor put a reassuring, gloved hand on Bucky's shoulder. "You don't have to protect them," he tried to soothe, calm and reassuring. "It's all right. You're safe now."

"I don't know!" Bucky snapped, glancing at the doctor a bit. And Steve knew Bucky was lying, though why he didn't know.

"Bucky," Steve tried to coax him. "This is a federal case. We're trying to catch the people who did this to you. You shouldn't lie."

"I don't know," Bucky moaned, burying his head in the pillow further.

"Bucky-"

"Just move on already!"

Sighing, the doctors had him turn on his back. Checking his chest, they questioned him on the prexisting scars near the metal arm. Bucky remained silent, looking away. Feeling down his chest, he flinched when they reached the sternum. The doctors looked further. "There's something out of place. That can only happen when doctors do surgery and they have to move something out of the way."

"I was injured," Bucky surprisingly informed them. Immediately, the nurse was writing down what he said. "A bullet wound. When I got to Hydra, they surgically removed it."

The doctor nodded, compassion in his eyes. "It appears in order to do so, they had to break a bone or move something out of the way. They probably tried to repair the break, but they didn't put the completed bone back into position. That would require chiropractic and you were still healing." Bucky looked away. He didn't impart any more information.

Steve had to wonder why Bucky had chosen to share that, but refused to shed any light on the injury from being beat. It was odd, but perhaps a clue to what Bucky would not say. He hadn't been very sharing when he had come back from Hydra. And Steve hadn't pushed him for information either, figuring that he would share when he was ready to.

They next checked his legs for any scars, noticing his bones slightly out of place and muscles tense from being hit. And lastly, they noted slight misalignment in his wrists and ankles from being tightly restrained, too tightly in fact, and probably struggling against them.

With that, they let him go change, and as they waited, the main doctor took Steve aside privately, going somewhat out the door. Concern was on his face. "He's in denial," he warned Steve. "During our interviews earlier, he had tell tale signs of lying. And he refused quite bluntly to answer certain questions."

"What questions?" Steve asked, a sense of foreboding and dread seeping through him.

The doctor sighed. "When we asked if Rumlow wad involved, an answer everyone already knew, Bucky denied it. His claim was that Rumlow was just an escort to deliver him to Hydra, a mercenary of sorts. So we pushed him, asked him why he was there in the end when you two confronted. He claims the deal failed and Rumlow was taking him where he could earn more money. When we told him what Clint told us that Rumlow was Hydra again, Bucky said Rumlow had lied to Clint. And when we told him we had evidence that Rumlow was Hydra, he got really angry with us and accused us of being manipulators."

Steve's heart flipped. "What else?" he breathed. His chest constricted in worry.

The doctor eyed him square in the eyes. "We asked him what he felt about Rumlow. We asked him if he felt attached. He looked really uncomfortable. He said no. So when we asked him why he protected Rumlow, he yelled at us that he doesn't have Stockholm Syndrome or a trauma bond. We never mentioned Stockholm Syndrome or a trauma bond once. When we pointed that out, he called us liars and said that we did. So when we told him he didn't have to protect Rumlow, he shouted that maybe Rumlow didn't need protecting.

"We then asked why he decided to protect Rumlow when you went to rescue him, since that was the case. Bucky's reply was that he had unanswered questions that he needed Rumlow to answer. So we asked him why Rumlow specifically. We offered him to talk to a captured Hydra agent that been involved with him. Bucky said it had to be Rumlow. So we asked him what he was trying to find out, explaining that we may have another way to obtain the answer. He shouted, pounded the table and insisted it had to be Rumlow.

"We asked him why. He said it wasn't our business. We replied that it was a federal investigation, and thus it was our business. We told him that he's required to tell us everything. He wouldn't answer after that. So when we told him we knew he was lying, that that wasn't his real reason for protecting Rumlow, he yelled at us to back off. He used a lot harsher words, actually.

"It was there, in his body language. He's lying. He was protecting Rumlow, and not for the reason he's insisting on. But when we asked again if he protected Rumlow because he didn't want you guys to have Rumlow or arrest him, he called us liars and manipulators.

"Something's off. He's protecting Rumlow. And those weren't the only questions he was dishonest and evasive with."

Worry spread across Steve's features as he heard this. He glanced at the bathroom door, which was still closed.

Turning back to the doctor, he asked seriously, "Does Bucky have a trauma bond? Stockholm Syndrome?"

The doctor eyed him back, looking him right in the eyes. "Undoubtedly. All the psychiatrists agreed."

"And is there any way that they could be wrong?" Steve begged, wishing for it not to be true.

The doctor shook his head. "Not this time. It was very clear to us, though I wish that weren't the case."

Steve was devastated. "It's to Rumlow, isn't it?" He was rather hesitant to ask the question.

The doctor nodded. "Those questions were actually aimed at diagnosing and confirming it. He has Stockholm Syndrome and a trauma bond to Rumlow. And he's in denial of it. He's protecting Rumlow."

"No!" Steve whispered, looking away, his hand to his face. "Not this! Anything else!"

"I'm sorry," the doctor whispered. And he walked away, leaving Steve there.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, he stepped back in to see Bucky fully dressed. Smiling at him, he encouraged in a strained voice, "Ready to go home?"

Bucky nodded.

(Bucky Point of View)

After coming home from the review, Bucky holed himself in his room and wouldn't come out. He plopped on the bed, resting on the pillows, his mind unable to get over what he'd eavesdropped and over heard.

'The doctor told Steve Stockholm Syndrome and trauma bonding.' He huffed and looked away, 'It's not true! It's that stupid commander's programming and the bond! And I can't even tell them because Rumlow forbids me! Now I'm forced to lie!'

Turning on his side, he shuddered. 'What am I going to do?' he mourned. 'It's way too much!'

Tears began silently forming in his eyes and he squeesed them shut, curling into fetal position. His mind wandered to the examination earlier that day. They had felt his ribs and the muscles there, asking him if he'd been hit there. He shuddered as another memory surfaced.

Gordan, the main guard loyal to Rumlow, had slapped him when he had spit the bite guard out. He'd forced the bite guard painfully back into his mouth, eliciting a distressed shout from Bucky. Bucky remembered the man pulling duck tape out and duck taping it to is face, but as he resisted the man, Gordan had gotten frustrated. He'd then proceeded to harshly hit Bucky on his back near the ribs on the right with his baton until Bucky was stunned enough to where Gordan could continue strapping the bite guard painfully to his face.

Bucky winced at the memory. It was painful. Moreover, Gordan was intensely loyal to Rumlow, and Rumlow was somewhat fond of Gordan as he leaned on the man's advice. The two had formed a fast friendship, and Rumlow, after the bond, had turned a blind eye towards Gordan's previous treatment of Bucky because of his loyaly to him, and because of the advice he gave Rumlow. Bucky knew, through the bond, that there was no way he could turn Gordan in because of it. Granted, he knew that Rumlow wouldn't tolerate any more of such unnecessary acts from the man towards Bucky now that Bucky was his. Unless it was for punishment, that is. Bucky could only hope that meant if they ever met again, the man wouldn't be excessively mean like last time.

Through the bond, Bucky felt that not only did Rumlow want Bucky to protect him, but he wanted Bucky to protect Gordan as well. With a shiver, Bucky remembered seeing Gordan on the streets occassionally, watching him from a distance when he was out with Steve. And through the bond Bucky had felt Rumlow near. He was being watched. It was only a matter of time before Rumlow would snatch him again and he would be brought back to Hydra. They were watching him, and Steve wasn't even aware of it. And he couldn't even say anything.

He was scared. He knew Rumlow would never give him up entirely. They we bonded. So why had the man let him go to begin with? Why let him stay with Steve at all? He didn't understand what Rumlow wanted from him.

The tears made their ways down his cheeks. He couldn't keep them in his eyes anymore. He started sobbing.

(Steve Point of View)

When they had arrived home, Steve had let Bucky mope in his room without interrupting him. He knew that Bucky had gone through an awful lot that day, and that perhaps he might need some time alone. So Steve used that time to fix dinner for them. But when he stopped by the door and heard Bucky crying, Bucky trying to be silent about it, his heart was moved and he couldn't keep himself any longer. Gently knocking on the door, he asked, "Bucky, are you okay?"

There was no response, but he could tell that Bucky was trying to quiet his sobs. Some tears poured down Steve's face as well. It hurt him to see and to know that his best friend was suffering so much. It just wasn't fair to him. Bucky was a good person and he had taken care of him far better than he had ever taken care of Bucky, in Steve's opinion. So why did he have to go through so much and suffer so intensely?

Opening the door slowly, Steve crept in. He immediately noticed that Bucky was curled in on himself, in fetal position, and his very demeanor screamed vulnerable. Shutting the door slowly, Steve went and sat down next to Bucky on the bed.

"It won't always be like this," Steve tried to reassure him. Bucky didn't so much as respond. So Steve tried to think of a lighter topic. "Someday you'll be happy again, and this will all be behind you."

"Hard to believe that," Bucky finally responded, sniffling. "Life seems to be against me. And don't forget that there are still people in the world who hate me for what I've done."

"That wasn't you," Steve tried to reassure him, placing a gentle hand on Bucky's flesh shoulder. "You weren't in control again. All those who still blame you are bad people. They have no forgivness for something that shouldn't even require forgiveness since you weren't in control. They're blaming the wrong people, and what's more is that they have no mercy. You were only used as a tool or a scapegoat. That is a reflection on those people and how corrupt and evil they are, not you."

Carefully, Bucky turned to look at him. "Why don't you give up on me already?" be sobbed a little, tears streaming down his eyes.

Steve smiled sadly, cupping his cheek gently with his right hand. "I'll never give up on you. You never gave up on me when I was sick all those years ago. You missed out on so much, sacrificed so much to spend some time with me when I held you back because of my illness. I'll never give up on you, Bucky. Til the end of the line, right?"

A small smile spread across Bucky's face and he wiped his tears. Huffing a sigh, he muttered, "You were always worth it, though."

"So are you," Steve tried to reassure him. He carefully considered how to word his next words because he knew it was a delicate subject. He wanted to break it as gently as possible. "Bucky," he started, taking a deep breath. "I think we need to talk about your self esteem issue."

"Self esteem?" Bucky echoed warily. He pulled his knees up more.

Steve nodded. "You're too hard on yourself. You've been through a lot. I understand that much. Anyone would be hurt a lot by what you went through. But if you are to heal, you need to start thinking better of yourself."

"I see myself as I am," Bucky grunted, curling in more. Steve could tell that he didn't like the conversation. Why he seemed to like to put himself down, Steve didn't entirely understand. But he supposed it had something to do with Hydra. Perhaps Hydra had taught him to self abuse himself, something that made Steve cringe and shutter. He hated what Hydra had done to his best friend, how they had ruined his confidence, both in himself and others.

"No, you don't," Steve countered gently, softly tugging some of Bucky's hair out of his face so that he could look at him. "You consider yourself of much less worth than you really are. I see you of great worth."

"Maybe you don't see correctly," Bucky shook his head, clearly not willing to believe.

Some tears went down Steve's face. "Maybe you're not thinking clearly. So could you maybe trust me on this until you can think clearly?"

Turning himself so that he could better gaze at Steve, Bucky replied, "I don't know what I believe in any more, or what I trust."

Nodding his acceptance, Steve supposed that was the best he was going to get for now. "I understand. But someday you'll see that I'm right."

"Or you'll see that I'm right," Bucky muttered under his breath.

Shaking his head, Steve scooted closer to him so that Bucky's head was near his thighs which were crisscrossed as he sat on Bucky's bed. "Not a chance, Buck. Not a chance."

Steve waited until Bucky's tears had dried some, humming softly, gazing at his best friend. Eventually, Bucky recovered enough to uncurl himself and sit up.

Though Steve knew he was going to have to address Bucky's issues of self worth again eventually, Steve only hoped that Bucky could mull over what he said and find it in himself to believe it. Whatever Hydra had done to him, Steve knew that the latest incident with Hydra had downed Bucky's spirits once more, making it hard for him to focus on the positive.

It was still questioning as to why Rumlow let Bucky go. He seemed so persistent to take Bucky to Hydra, according to Clint, even when he acknowledged that some of what Hydra did made him uncomfortable. But Bucky's unusual behavior also made Steve wonder whether or not there was something else going on, or that perhaps Rumlow might change his mind and snatch Bucky back.

As Bucky leaned against the pillows on his bed, propping himself up, rustling the sheets, Steve came to himself again.

Steve knew that he was going to have to address the issue of Rumlow with Bucky. It was vital to keeping him safe. And if Bucky knew something, he needed Bucky to talk.

"Bucky," he approached carefully. Bucky gave him his full attention. Sighing, Steve continued while cringing internally, "I know you lied some to the doctors."

Instantly, Bucky looked away and wouldn't meet his eyes. "I'm not mad," Steve reassured him. "But what you're lying about, I've gotta know." Bucky remained silent. Steve decided to try again. "Bucky," he tried to coax, gently shaking his best friend's leg, and when that didn't work, he tried to catch his best friend's eyes. "Please talk to me," he pleaded.

"I don't like them," Bucky finally looked Steve in the eyes. "I don't like the doctors."

Steve nodded, recognising Bucky's deception because he knew him so well. Bucky was changing the subject subtly in an attempt to redirect from somethting that was bothering him. "You and I both know you're avoiding the question."

Suddenly, Bucky was clenching his fists like he was mad. Steve could hear the metal arm whirling. "Leave me alone!" Bucky gritted his teeth.

"Bucky-"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Steve clenched his own fists, tired of Bucky's charade. "No," he firmly responded, not willing to back down. "Not with your life and health on the line, Bucky. You can lie to the feds all you want, Bucky, but you're not lying to me."

Steve saw the beginning of a sob working it's way on Bucky's face as Bucky so desperately tried to hold it back, looking away. Softening his gaze and expression, Steve gently reached out and took Bucky's flesh wrist gently. "I just want to help you!" Steve pleaded. "Please don't cast me off again! Do you know how worried I was about you after you went away after project Insight? Please don't push me away again!"

As he awaited Bucky to calm down, soft tears spilling down Bucky's face, he was patient. Finally, Bucky softly whispered, "I... I can't."

"Why not?" Steve gently murmured after a moment's hesitation.

Bucky shook his head again. "I can't."

Steve sighed. "You know I can't accept that answer."

"I know," was Bucky's soft reply.

"Then you admit the deception?"

Bucky shook his head. "I can't!"

"Bucky!" Steve gently pushed. Bucky seemed to wait a bit more before responding with a nod. "Yes to what?" Steve gently prompted him. Above all, he wanted Bucky to communicate and be honest in his communications.

"I lied," Bucky admitted, and Steve could tell that it took Bucky a lot to admit that. "But not on everything!" Bucky was quick to add when he noticed Steve nodding in acknowledgment. "Just some things."

"Why?" Steve pushed, wanting to keep Bucky talking. He could only hope that it would act as a catharsis for him as well so that he would feel more confident to be honest about his situation. Bucky looked away again, refusing to talk.

Steve knew he was going to have to be patient with Bucky as it might take a while to get an answer, let alone an honest answer, out of Bucky. So he continued to work Bucky.

"Why?" Steve asked again. It took a little moment, and suddenly, Bucky burst into tears.

"Because I'm scared, Steve!" Bucky began crying more, sobs wracking his body. "I'm scared and this is all I can do!"

Steve's heart fell. "Bucky, if you're being threatened, I have a right to know as your guardian. It's my duty to protect you, and I can't do that if you won't tell me what's going on!"

Bucky shook his head, silent again. "Is it my life, or someone else's that you're afraid for?" Steve pushed, determined to get Bucky to talk it out. Once more, Bucky shook his head. "Then why?"

Bucky was shaking now, staring distantly, and Steve put his hand on Bucky's knee to ground him. As he came to, he looked at Steve. "I can't," was his seemingly final answer.

Steve shook his head. "Not good enough. Don't shut me out, Bucky."

Bucky took a moment to calm himself as it looked like he was hyperventilating. He wrapped his arms around himself and Steve waited patiently. "It's impossible for me to say," he finally replied.

"Why?" Steve pushed.

Bucky was shaking, and there was a desperateness in his gaze to Steve, almost like he wanted to say something but was unable to. What was holding Bucky back, Steve didn't know, but whatever it was was a real nightmare for Bucky, a living nightmare. His haunted gaze sent shivers running through Steve's spine and raised the hairs on his neck.

"I wish you knew," Bucky begged. "But I can't tell you. And I want to. But I can't."

Steve knew the truth of Bucky's statement. He could feel it. Whatever it was, Bucky truly did want to tell him. And Steve couldn't help but think that despite the fact that Bucky couldn't tell him, this was a clue, a vital part of the puzzle that Bucky had unknowingly revealed.

"Wharever this is," Steve promised Bucky in return for the vital clue, "I will figure it out for you, for us."

Suddenly Bucky's eyes widened as he realised that Steve had put something together, and he was choking. Tremors racked through his body and suddenly he was letting out a bloodcurling scream, holding his head and shrieking. His hands wrapped aroudn his hair, pulling it in pure agony. " ** _No_**! **_No_**!" he screamed.

Steve watched on, frozen in horror, until he had come to his senses and couldn't stand it anymore. Scooting closer, he gently twisted Bucky's hands out of his hair, twisting Bucky until he could hold him and restrain him.

"Shhh," he tried to reasure Bucky.

"I DIDN'T MEAN TO!" screeched Bucky.

"Shhh," Steve tried to reassure his best friend. "You did the right thing, Bucky. You did the right thing."

It took a while, but Bucky finally stopped resisting Steve who was restraining him, and he finally melted down into sobs and tears. Steve continued to hold Bucky, rocking him back and forth.

"I didn't mean to!" Bucky sobbed again, and Steve patted his back.

Tears were running down Steve's eyes. "I'll rescue you. Bucky. I'll find a way."

(Sam Point of View)

Sam sighed, hanging up the phone. Steve had just called him to let him know of a new development regarding Bucky. He'd called asking for advice.

Truth be told, Sam didn't know what to do. The whole scenario bewildered him. Bucky's actions sort of matched someone who was threatened and under pressure, and yet not everything matched.

Setting his phone down carefully, Sam walked over to his laptop. Opening his web browser, Sam looked up trauma bonding.

The more he read, the more Sam was concerned. As he began reading about Stockholm Syndrome, Sam only felt worse.

Picking up his phone, Sam dialed a number.

The person answered immediately. "Did you read?" an accented voice asked.

"Yeah," Sam choked.

"And?" the other person demanded.

"It's bad," Sam confirmed.

T'challa sighed on the other end. "I need you to convince Steve to bring Bucky back to Wakanda. We have the resources to protect him here, and perhaps to get to the bottom of this."

"You know Steve will never agree," Sam warned. "He wants Bucky some place he's familiar with so that he can heal."

"Then convince him," T'challa ordered. "No one can afford Bucky to be easily persuaded right now. With Hydra stirring, everyone's lives are on the line. Bucky is still in danger, even according to my sources. They'll go after him again. And that could cost us lives if they get him again, especially if Bucky is attached to them."

"And the politics this will cause once discovered?"

"Don't worry about that. I've got it covered. They'll search for months before they discover Wakanda was behind it. And when they do, I'll have my newest players in place to ensure they don't have any negotiating power. Besides, this is in everyone's best interests, and I almost have everything set up to where they'll have no choice but to acknowledge this."

Sam swallowed. He might make Steve an enemy if he agreed to this. But T'challa's previous purposal to force them back to Wakanda if Sam couldn't convince them to go made perfect sense. It was practically kidnapping them both, even if he and T'challa meant no harm. But they had to do it, for Steve and Bucky.

But Sam would rather try to convince Steve first before resorting to smuggling them out of country against their wills.

"I'll do it. I'll try."

"And if they won't go?"

Sam swallowed.

"Then I'm prepared to do what you need me to do. For Steve and Bucky."

(Steve Point of View)

It took a while for Bucky to go to sleep again. He didn't seem to want to eat dinner, still distressed from his apparent outburst earlier, and Steve had to finally relent and let Bucky starve himself for the night. But he was resolved not to allow it for a second time. He wouldn't let Bucky self abuse himself, even if he were feeling a little mopy. Or even a lot mopy.

Bucky's depression was heartbreaking. Steve had tried to cheer him up at dinner, but he'd been unable to. And with how closed off he was, Steve didn't know what to do for Bucky.

Finally, Steve let Bucky go back to bed. Bucky went immediately, something that Steve wasn't expecting.

Sighing, Steve scrubbed hard at the dishes. His thoughts currently were more distracting than anything, and he still wasn't closer to an answer on how to help Bucky.

When he dried the dishes off, still not used to having a dishwasher and still used to doing things the old fashioned way, he thought he heard a thud coming from the bedrooms. Setting the dishes softly down, he padded lightly over to the rooms. When he reached Bucky's door, he listened closely. There was no sign of movement, but knowing the way Bucky was after the Winter Soldier ordeal, that didn't mean anything.

After pondering on the best course of action, Steve finally opened the door. To his surprise, he saw Bucky curled up on the floor by his bed where he must have fallen. His knees were drawn to his chest and he was staring at nothing, in a catatonic state.

Steve went and gently knelt by Bucky. But Bucky didn't even as much as respond, seemingly unknowing that Steve was there. So when Steve gently placed a hand on his best friend's shoulder's, he startled greatly, letting out a yell.

When Buck lashed out, Steve was ready and caught the man's arm. Finally Bucky recognised him.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky looked away and then back at Steve. Things were silent for a few minutes. "You know, he knew me before project Insight," Bucky's low, rumbling voice was heard.

Steve's gut clenched. He knew it was Rumlow that Bucky was talking about. Sitting down in front of him and getting comfortable, Steve placed a gentle hand on Bucky's shoulders. "I know. He admitted it to me. He admitted that they hurt you."

Something about this statement seemed to bother Bucky. "Is... Is it wrong to say that I care about him?" Tiny tears were seen in Bucky's eyes. His breathing was strained. Though he was starting to open up, Steve knew he was holding back. But he wasn't about to complain since Bucky was starting to open up.

Waiting for Bucky to continue paid off. "Despite how gruff he was with me when you and Clint saw him, he was a lot more tame when the Avengers weren't around. There's something about Avengers that he doesn't like. They agitate him. But at other times, he was a lot kinder. Out of everyone in Hydra, he was the most kind to me."

Bucky took the time to look Steve in the eyes. "He didn't like seeing me be hurt. It bothered him. I know that it doesn't excuse the actions he did to me, but can't you understand? He was a step up from what I had before, the treatment that I had previously recieved from Hydra. So, is it wrong to say I care about him?"

Steve knew Bucky was confused. He could tell.

Broaching the subject carefully, Steve replied while squeesing his shoulders gently, "He's abusive to you, Bucky. It's not unheard of for people to develop an attachment to their abusers."

Bucky's nose flared in anger, and he ground his teeth. "I never said I condoned what he did!" he hissed back and shrugged Steve's grip off. Steve allowed this.

Steve nodded. "I know. But if you would hear the words you're telling me, Bucky, maybe you could see our perspective."

At first, Bucky clenched his fists and Steve could tell he was more angry and agitated than before. Then, slowly, he relaxed. "Maybe," he admitted, and though it was progress, Steve could tell that Bucky still seemed skeptical. He looked up at Steve. "But if it's a trauma bond, like everyone is saying, then why don't I want to be with him, Steve? Why do I want to be as far away from him as possible?"

It was puzzling and Steve didn't have an answer for that.

He placed his hand on Bucky's shoulder again. "One day at a time, Bucky. One day at a time."

(A few days later)

(Rumlow Point of View)

Rumlow walked side by side with a man in a business suit, red hair, green eyes, a thick man. They were in a corporate headquarters somewhere in Sweden.

"So, Pierce made you leader after all," the man grunted. They stopped by a lounge and the man offered him water chilled with ice cubes a lemon.

"Thank you," Rumlow accepted it, slipping slowly. This man was a leader of one of the factions of Hydra, and he knew better than to offend him by not accepting it, despite being leader of Hydra. While he may have had his loyalty on mere merits of being leader, he needed his heartfelt loyalty as well. Thus, Rumlow had spent his most recent time visiting the heads of the factions of Hydra, formally cementing and solidifying his position, ensuring their loyalty. It wouldn't have been needful if it weren't for Striker, something that still made Rumlow frown. But there wasn't anything he could do about it now.

Gesturing for him to sit down in the elaborate room consisting of many luxurious couches, Rumlow politely accepted the invitation, facing the glass windows that went from ceiling to floor, staring out at the dying sunset. "Nice view," he commented.

The man smirked. "Yes, here in Sweden we have some of the best sunsets in the world. But that's nothing compared to the view that Hydra has, has always had."

"A view I intend to keep and maintain until victory," Rumlow chose the opportunity to assure the man that he would follow in Pierce's steps.

The man hesitated, then stood up, going to the window. "Pierce's vision is something we all support. But his shoes are big to fill." The man sipped his water again.

'So he's doubtful I can do it.' Rumlow frowned. 'Perhaps he views my leadership as ineffective becaude it took so long for me to solidify my position.'

So Rumlow decided to counter, "Any leader's shoes are big to fill. However, I'm also aware that as leader I can't do things the same ways as my predecessors. Circumstances change, and societies change. I have to be able to adapt with the times. That, and some policies were meant to be short term in order to help us reach a set marker. They're no longer valid."

"All true," the man tipped his glass at him. Rumlow went to stand beside him.

Sipping a bit more, Rumlow continued, playing one of the political cards that Pierce had taught him long ago. He still remembered Pierce's lessons, especially amplified during that last year as Pierce groomed him as heir and leader. "Pierce never expected me to copy cat. But it is understandable that his policies are what most are used to. He was leader for so long. Most underlings are recently joined and don't remember any leadership but his, let alone that when every leader first attained the position that policies were changed to bring Hydra on par with the times and closer to our goals. No leader has had the same policies. They've changed what they've deemed was needed to be changed to suit Hydra's outcomes and ultimate goals."

"True as well," the man tipped his glass once more.

"So the question is," Rumlow turned to the man, now throwing his ace out to get an answer, as Pierce taught, thus trapping the man, "Which policies have you concerned?"

The man sighed, chuckling. "Pierce taught you well," he caught on, throwing an amused grin at him. "I did not realise Pierce had trained you for politics. He really was grooming you to be leader."

Rumlow chuckled as well.

The man scrutinised him as well. "That answers whether Pierce truly destined you to be leader."

"You're changing the subject," Rumlow chose to be blunt.

The man sighed. "You've trapped me. Very well. My concern is the Winter Soldier. He is Hydra's prize, and yet there are rumors that you've let him go."

"You're questioning the effectiveness of my leadership?" Rumlow tipped his glass to him, surmising everything. Then he decided to answer with a question. "Whoever said I let him go?"

"Regardless, he was lost on your watch."

"Whoever said I lost him?"

Puzzled, the man turned to Rumlow, truly intrigued now. "My sources seem to indicate that he's been in Steve's possession for a few months now."

Rumlow tipped his glass to him. "As intended." He sipped more.

At this, the man turned to face him fully, now serious. "Mr. Rumlow. The Winter Soldier has been kept and maintained for the sole purpose of doing Hydra's bidding. He's a highly valuable resource that has been deployed carefully to rid us of our enemies. This is not a kind of resource you throw away and ruin by letting it go into the hands of those who will indoctrinate it to do the bidding of those other than Hydra."

"And yet it is his connections that give us the advantage we now have," Rumlow emphasised. He chuckled darkly. "I've worked with a number of the Avengers closely, Steve Rogers, Black Widow, Hawkeye. Trust me when I say I know them and their weaknesses."

"How so?" the man carefully and warily replied.

Rumlow huffed in amusement a little. "The Avengers are our weakpoint. And Steve is the Avenger's weakpoint. Steve's weakpoint is Bucky. I have my Asset right where I want him."

"What do you mean?" the man, now intrigued, responded, slowly opening up to Rumlow's ideas and leadership.

Rumlow turned to face the sunset. It was all going well both with his leadership, with the Avengers, with Steve, and with his Asset.

"I'm going to use Bucky Barnes to bring down the Avengers."

 **That's the finale for this story! Please check out the sequel, If Only You Would Understand Me, which is now posted.**

 **Please review both this chapter and the new story!**


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